A Hole in the River
by vcatrashfiend
Summary: Someone takes the road less travelled, and the end result puts two rivals on equal footing. A story fraught with lost identity, surprise invitations, and male posturing! *Reviews mean a happy and motivated writer!*
1. Prologue: Beyond Here Lies Nothing

A Hole in the River

By: vcatrashfiend

Summary: Someone takes the road less travelled, and the end result puts two rivals on equal footing. A story fraught with lost identity, surprise invitations, and male posturing!

Rated: T

Disclaimer: All characters identifiable with 'Pygmalion' and 'My Fair Lady' clearly do not belong to me, and I am certainly not making any money off of this creation. My only compensation is reviews, so pray don't be stingy!

* * *

Prologue

Eliza Doolittle gripped her reticule in one hand, and her suitcase in the other as she peered out into the night. Sure enough, that foolish boy from Ascot was standing outside the front door, looking wistful and quite cold. Eliza rolled her eyes and snorted; what a fool! Didn't he know that he could do far better than she? Ah well. It would do no good for him to see her out and about, it would ruin everything. Eliza lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and headed for the kitchen. She would simply have to sneak out the back.

As soon as Eliza was out in the night air, she hazarded a backwards glance. It seemed her exodus had gone unnoticed. Perhaps the events of the evening had rendered Eliza completely invisible. The dark thought was one of many others that Eliza found herself mulling over, each as bitter as raw chocolate. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and Eliza raised a hand to angrily rub them away. It was time for action, not tears. But first…

Once Eliza was safely several blocks away from 27A, she hailed a taxi. The cabbie gave her a queer sort of look when she calmly requested a ride to Covent Garden. After all, she gave every appearance of being the genteel sort, and it was a dangerous part of town to wander around in at three in the morning on the weekend. However, Eliza promised a generous tip, and all misgivings became invalid.

The taxi came to a halt near the market, all but deserted and ghostly in the moonlight. Eliza paid the driver, who issued a quick warning before driving off. A few of Eliza's old friends stood, warming their hands over a contained fire. The familiar sight tugged at Eliza's heart, and with a smile, she walked over to their comfortable little group. To her dismay, the men gave a start when they saw her. She could not discern any recognition in their faces, rather an awed sort of reverence. Defeated, and unwilling to reveal her identity, Eliza walked away.

It seemed not moments after her run-in with the familiar-yet-unfamiliar acquaintances, the shock not fully worn off, Alfred Doolittle strolled back into her sphere, donning coattails and a silk top hat. Eliza listened intently to his tale of new riches and marital woe; he was finally being forced to make an honest woman out of Eliza's long suffering "step-mother". It was further revealed, once Alfred got an inkling of Eliza's rupture with Henry Higgins, that he was unwilling to help Eliza in any capacity, not that she would ever ask assistance of him. Eliza had learned at the tender age of fifteen, that in order to survive in the world, she'd best rely on things other than her father; namely herself. They parted on the promise that Eliza would not be attending the ceremony, even though she sent her fondest wishes for his marital bliss.

Eliza retreated from the market, and headed to St. Paul's, where she left her suitcase in the jumble box, and said a hasty prayer. She would not need clothes where she was heading, fine though they were. Eliza managed a dark chuckle, when she thought of what the poor would say when they pulled her expensive French ball gown from the box in the morning. Perhaps someone would have better luck in it than she.

The Waterloo Bridge loomed ahead, and Eliza took a deep breath before picking up the pace. One should not drag their feet en route to destiny. Once Eliza was standing on the bridge, the first order of business was to unlace her boots. It didn't occur to her to wonder why she found such an act necessary, it merely was. Grunting, she pulled herself up onto the ledge and sat for a while. In the distance she could see Cleopatra's Needle, pointing towards the sky. Eliza learned about the Egyptian queen when Henry read to her from the works of William Shakespeare, and at the time, the woman's final act had seemed to forbidding to Eliza. Yet, months later, Eliza was perched above the Thames river, shivering, bootless, and filled with purpose. She no longer belonged to any world on the earthly plain, and the river's gaping black maw was beckoning.

Eliza took a deep breath, rocked back to gain momentum and then… No. Call her cowardly, but Eliza found herself quite unwilling to take the plunge.

"I will go to Mrs. Higgins in the morning, and ask her for advice," Eliza informed the night air.

Eliza turned, too quickly in her eagerness to return to solid ground, twisting an ankle in the process. The pain caused her to cry out, and she lost her balance, hitting her head on the ledge before succumbing to the chilly, filthy embrace of the Thames. Eliza knew no more.


	2. Freddy Gets a Clue

A Hole in the River

Chapter One: Freddy Gets a Clue

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my fellow Brett-head, and beta reader, Teckla. Ever since I told her that Freddy Eynsford-Hill of the movie, and Sherlock Holmes of the Granada television series were one and the same, she has been hounding me to pay homage in one of my stories. So here you are; Freddy Eynsford-Hill with Jeremy Brett in mind, doing what he does best. Much love! -vcatrashfiend

* * *

Freddy Eynsford-Hill returned to his post after approximately three hours of sleep. Peter, the butler, made a remark about Freddy's dogged determination to get the girl. Something about how perhaps Freddy had missed his calling as a detective. Freddy had chuckled good-naturedly, and managed to shrug on his coat and eat a piece of toast at the same time before fleeing his mother's house, whistling a jaunty tune.

Chaos had erupted on the ordinarily serene street his beloved lived on. Even from a block away, Freddy could make out the frantic swearing of a man he identified as Henry Higgins. Once Freddy reached the front door, he was nearly knocked down the stairs when aforementioned door flung open, revealing the son of Freddy's mother's dearest friend.

"You!" The older man cried, grabbing Freddy by an arm and dragging him bodily into the house. "Do you know where she is?" Henry inquired, eyes narrowed.

"I-"

"Yes, _you_. I trust you don't believe that your overtures have gone unnoticed by this household? What have you done with Eliza?"

Freddy stammered, thoroughly flustered by the accusations, and upset that Eliza was not at home. Henry released his vice-like grip from the boy's arm, and Freddy rubbed it, defensively.

"Your well-articulated alibi has been duly noted," Henry spoke sarcastically.

"I swear I have no idea where she is, sir. I only came by to court her favor… with your permission. She is your ward, is she not?"

Henry glared daggers, the look was deadly enough for Freddy to avert his eyes.

"She is my ward, actually." The man Freddy remembered as Colonel Pickering walked into the front hallway, looking a bit worse for the wear. "I must ask if you have absolutely any idea where she might be, young man; she has been missing since very early this morning."

Freddy felt his heart sink. "She couldn't have fled, I would have seen her!"

"What's that?" Henry asked, his voice low and slightly dangerous.

"I was waiting at your front door all night for a glimpse of her," the boy answered truthfully.

"Impertinent!"

Freddy blushed. "I've gone beyond all rules of propriety when it comes to her-… I would cheerfully die for her favor!" There was a touching earnestness to his tone that caused the older gentlemen to clear their throats in discomfort.

"I daresay she could have used the back exit when she noticed you drooling on the street," Henry theorized.

"But why the devil would she leave?" Pickering asked, truly puzzled.

Henry looked away; rather guiltily, Freddy thought.

"Oh, who cares why she left? The thing we ought to be focusing on is bringing her back," Henry stated.

"I am totally in agreement, sir," replied Freddy.

"Oh, not you. Go home to your mother, boy, this is none of your concern."

Freddy lifted his chin in defiance. "Miss Doolittle is the woman I love, and I will see that she is brought home safely!"

Colonel Pickering patted the boy on the back, affectionately. "Of course, young man, of course-Many hands make light work, and all that- you are more than welcome to help." Freddy was led into the parlor by the old man, followed reluctantly by Henry Higgins, and the three of them sat down together and discussed what was to be done.

"Perhaps we ought to get in contact with Mr. Doolittle," Pickering suggested, to which Henry scoffed.

"Eliza can't stand her father, why on earth would she go to him? The man is a terrible blackguard, and a drunk to boot." Henry turned to Freddy. "If you want to take on this young lady, you'll have a pretty interesting family to put up with."

"I will consider her family completely darling until I've seen them myself," was Freddy's rejoinder, to which Henry burst out in laughter.

"Perhaps we ought to take this one on, Pick; his idiotic notions nearly top Eliza's!" Henry exclaimed, wiping the mirthful tears from his eyes with a handkerchief. Freddy bristled; he was always considered the most cheerful of young men, but he did have his limits!

"Here now, old man-"

"Oh, be quiet, for god's sake! I can barely hear myself think as it is, without your silly indignation added to the mess."

The trio fell silent, gears fairly audible as they came up with possible locations for their missing flower girl. It was soon decided that Henry would go to his mother's, Colonel Pickering would keep up his inquiries with the home office, and Freddy would be sent to Covent Garden Market for reasons completely unknown to him. Why on earth would his darling be found hanging about in such a place?

Oddly enough, the name Eliza Doolittle seemed to ring an alarming number of bells in the district. After a few inquiries, Freddy found himself being ushered to St. George's, just in time to witness an elderly couple running down the front stairs, dodging a storm of rice. Newlyweds.

"That there's 'Liza's dad, Alfred Doolittle." Freddy's rough and tumble tour guide explained, he added "'E might know where she is, but I doubt it."

Freddy was pulled to the front of the crowd, and without further ado, introduced to the ruddy faced man, allegedly Eliza's sire. The old man appraised Freddy, taking in his well-made, but gently worn togs. Mr. Higgins concluded his study with a good-natured snort. "In love with me Eliza, are you? Poor bastard."

"You are really Eliza's father?" Freddy asked. When the old man nodded, Freddy decided to push back his misgivings for the time being. Her heritage was irrelevant, finding her was the top priority. Freddy proceeded to question Mr. Doolittle over Eliza's whereabouts, and breathed a sigh of relief when the man revealed that he had, in fact, seen Eliza the night prior.

"Down in the dumps, she was, I ain't never seen 'er so low since the day 'er mum died." The revelation of her mood caused fear to rise up in Freddy, and he pressed Mr. Doolittle for more information. She had been last seen in the square, heading towards St. Paul's Cathedral. Freddy sighed, and made haste to her last known location, desperately hoping that his journey would soon come to a fruitful end.

Before he reached his destination, he was sidetracked by a woman with a dirty face, and rough features, wearing Eliza's white Ascot gown. He stopped the woman with a desperate plea. "Stop!"

"Wot is it, Charlie?"

"Freddy, actually. Miss, may I inquire where you came upon that charming frock?"

"I didn' steal it, if that's wot your gettin' at."

"Of course not! It is just simply imperative that you tell me where you got it; I can't tell you why."

The woman sighed, and smoothed the skirt, leaving dirt smudges on the pristine lace. "I nicked it from the jumble box at church; I never saw such beeyootiful clothes there as I did today, never in me life. One of your society ladies got a kind 'eart, she does."

The news disturbed Freddy greatly for some reason. Why would Eliza flee in the night, and donate her possessions? Apparently, all reports of Eliza's whereabouts ended with her heading towards the Cathedral. Freddy had hit a dead end. Perhaps the Colonel and the Professor were having better luck. With a sigh of resignation, Freddy began to hail a taxi to take him to Mrs. Higgins home, where he had agreed to meet Henry and Colonel Pickering.

Freddy trod on a piece of newspaper, and looked down. It was the day's edition, and an headline immediately caught his eye. Unconcerned with the paper's former home on the filthy ground, Freddy picked it up and read. The contents of the article left him feeling bloodless and dizzy, and with a hoarse cry for a taxi, Freddy shoved the paper into his coat pocket.

Unidentified Woman Pulled From Thames; Comatose and in Critical Condition at St. Thomas


	3. Lethe

A Hole in the River

Chapter Two: Lethe

* * *

Henry nervously tread back and forth in his mother's sitting room, awaiting news on Eliza. Pickering was still trying his hand at the home office, but appeared to be more interested in getting back in touch with old friends than locating Eliza, and the Hill boy had yet to return.

"That boy is probably wandering around London like a lost child," Henry grumbled.

Henry had spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon scouring the surrounding parks between he and his mother's residence. Eliza had always taken a fancy to a stroll in the park, with the occasional picnic luncheon. When that had proven fruitless, he had attempted to badger nearby inns and hotels, going so far as explaining to them that Eliza was an errant wife. No sign.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Freddy showed up. Henry began to berate the boy for taking so long, not taking any notice of Freddy's stricken appearance. After a somewhat lengthy tirade, a newspaper was shoved unceremoniously into his hands.

"Read!" The boy insisted, pointing to a specific article.

Oh god. The description of the woman fit Eliza almost exactly, down to the traveling suit Henry recalled purchasing for her with Pickering. The paper was calling it a botched suicide, and not an accident, deduced thusly because she had removed her boots before jumping. Jumping, not falling. Henry felt his stomach twist into knots, and a bitter metallic taste rose to his throat. A myriad of emotions flowed through him. Guilt, for possibly being the catalyst in Eliza's decision to jump; anger, over the fact that his Eliza, _his _masterpiece had taken such a cowardly action; relief, that he was not reading her obituary; fear, that she was listed as in 'critical condition'. The heady concoction of those emotions were enough to stagger Henry, forcing him to sit down on the sofa, with a blank expression on his face.

"Were it not for the fact that I thought it utterly urgent to have her guardian informed, I would have gone to St. Thomas straightaway. Is Colonel Pickering about?"

"Someone will have to call him," Henry replied numbly, clutching the newspaper to his chest with an iron fist. Henry looked up at the boy. "Have Mother ring up my house for you."

Henry waited until the boy had left the room to search for the phone, before rising to his feet and heading for the front door, ran outside and hailed a taxi to take him to St. Thomas. Pickering and the boy would just have to catch up, for he was not going to wait another moment to be by her side. Heavens! What if she died?

"Foolish girl." Henry's usual venom was gone from his voice entirely, making the disparaging remark sound more like a tragic statement.

Henry spent the next half hour, urging the cabbie to pick up the pace. "Honestly, man, I could have walked in this amount of time!"

The cabbie grunted, and muttered what sounded like a threat to stop the car and throw Henry out so he could test his theory.

Finally, the journey was at an end. Henry threw the cab fare into the front seat, flung open the door, and ran to the hospital at a speed he had not attempted since he was a schoolboy. After presenting the skeptical staff with the picture of Eliza he had been carrying all day, he was ushered to her room, oblivious to the disapproving looks the nurses were exchanging with one another.

"We've stabilized her condition since the reports in the paper. Somehow, the girl has been able to avoid infection. A miracle, considering the gash on her forehead and the state of the river. Unfortunately, we've still been unable to revive her."

Wordlessly, Henry pulled a chair next to her bed and sat, his gaze fixed on her face. Eliza's forehead was heavily bandaged, although he could make out a bit of ugly purple bruising rising from the edge of the gauze, near her hairline. Her face was completely bloodless, but for that bit of purple, and the soft pink flush of her lips. If it hadn't been for the faint sign of life, clinging to those lips, Henry would have been convinced that she was, indeed, dead.

"Have you done all that you can for her for the time being?" Henry inquired?

"Yes."

"Then leave us."

Henry waited for the footsteps to recede into the distance before he reached for Eliza's cold hand.

"I expect a formal apology when you wake up, Eliza." God, her little hand was so very cold! Henry proceeded to rub the appendage between his own, gently trying to generate heat within her thin, clammy fingers. "I believe you've only done this to spite me, you know. Such a wicked, heartless, brainless thing to do, damn it all!" The last sentence was spoken with vehemence, drawing attention into her room.

Henry lowered his voice. "I am sorry, Eliza. I know the way we regarded your triumph last night was beastly; I can admit to that now." He choked back a groan of despair when she remained unhearing. "Won't you please, please wake up now? I know you were waiting for me to come crawling to your bedside, so you could have the pleasure of listening to your lofty teacher, spouting sentimental nonsense." Nothing. "Well, weren't you? Here I am, Eliza, now wake up."

Henry sat back, astonished that his theory had been debunked. She really wasn't waking up. Drawing up his famous determination, Henry resolved to sit there until she was revived. He would stand guard until the two of them gathered dust, if need be.

It was not long after Henry's resolution, when The Boy and Pickering entered the room. The Boy was immediately at Eliza's other side, exclaiming despairingly at her condition. Pickering just stood there, looking very pale and stricken. Henry motioned for his old friend to sit down, was ignored, and then found himself fighting a strong urge to box The Boy's ears when he caught the younger man ardently kissing Eliza's other hand.

"My darling…"

"For Heavens sake, you've only met her the one time; how can she possibly be _your_ darling?"

"The heart knows-"

"Oh, spare me! I've just had lunch you know."

"Higgins, let the boy be. He admires Miss Doolittle, and is clearly upset." Pickering found his voice, using it to gently scold. Henry was not mollified.

"Who the devil in this room isn't upset? I'm upset, aren't you? " Henry crossed his arms tightly over his chest and sat back, with a stormy look. "No one takes into consideration that I might be terribly fond of the stupid little girl."

"Miss Doolittle is not a stupid little girl!" the Boy protested. "How can you be so fond of her, and disparage her so?"

"Feelings weren't meant to be flown out in the open like a kite."

"Yours, perhaps, were not," the Boy fired back.

It only took a full minute of bickering for a solemn-looking Doctor to intrude. "Gentlemen, we are all aware that this young lady's condition is upsetting, but I won't have you risking the recovery of every patient on this wing with your petty disputes. Kindly conduct yourselves like gentlemen, or leave this place at once."

The warning was enough even for Henry to hold his peace. The three men waited quietly for Eliza to exhibit some signs of life…

She was swimming upwards in a pool of inky black, and everything was cold. Had she fallen under the ice? Was she truly swimming up, or had her mind tricked her, forcing her to recede backwards? No, it couldn't be. The voices were becoming stronger, so her journey had to be coming to a head. The water was clearing, going from pitch to cloudy, from cloudy to clear. The downside to obtaining her objective was the feeling that slammed into her body like a bat to the head. Everything about her hurt, and the pain was acute.

It occurred to her that she was not underwater, and that there were three unfamiliar, distinctly male faces above her. They gave no notice that she could see them, perhaps it was because her eyelids were dreadfully heavy, and therefore only opened very slightly.

"Aooow…" She moaned softly. Three pairs of eyes were on her face, wide and imploring. She certainly had their attention now. "Wot're you chaps doin', 'overin' over me bed? I'm a good girl, I am, and this ain't decent," she protested. She couldn't recall if she had ever seen a grown man faint, but she was sure, for some reason, that all three of her admirers were dreadfully close.


	4. Complications

A Hole in the River

Chapter Three: Complications

* * *

"Pardon?" Inquired the angrier of the trio. She observed that he was quite a bit younger than the white haired man, but quite a bit older than dark haired boy. Something in her brain told her she was surrounded by swells, and the well-articulated inquiry from the angry one confirmed it.

"I'm in me nightgown. It ain't decent for swells like you to be 'overin' over the likes o'me."

"Darling?" The youngest seemed confused, the other two merely stunned, gaping like fishes.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Charlie, but I ain't yer darlin'." She moaned in pain. Talking to the gentlemen made the pounding in her brain intensify to the point where the light in the room was blinding.

"Freddy. My name is Freddy… we met at Ascot," the boy gently explained in a soft, gentle voice tinged with a slightest bit of desperation.

"Never been," she replied, squeezing her eyes shut, and turning away from the light, and the probing eyes of the strangers.

"I am going to fetch the doctor," she heard the oldest man declare. Receding footsteps told her that he was doing just that. Wait… doctor?

"Wot am I doin' in 'Ospital?" She opened her eyes, and noticed that the angry man seemed to be getting angrier every passing moment, and the boy's eyes were widening at an alarming rate.

"What have you done, Eliza?" The angry man asked. His voice was as soft as the boy's, only with a dangerous edge to it. He was calling her Eliza… that sounded about right, for some reason.

"I don' know wot yer talkin' about!" She fired back. Something about the angry man rose her hackles, wild panic making it hard for her to breathe.

"I will not have you upsetting the patient!" A man about the angry one's age rushed into the room, followed by the white-haired man. "I want everyone in this room to wait in the hall until I have assessed the condition of this young lady."

She -Eliza- was now alone with the doctor. He sat down by her side, with a reassuring smile -quite a change from the range of panicky to peeved she had just experienced- and nodded at her.

"Your name is Miss Eliza Doolittle."

Eliza nodded. Now that she thought about it, she was.

"Tell me, Miss Doolittle… What do you remember about the events of last night?"

Eliza closed her eyes, and racked her befuddled brain. What she found in the far reaches of her mind disturbed her. It was a void. "Please, sir, I don' remember."

The doctor- Dr. Drake- gently explained to her the events of the night before, according to the police report. As he explained, Eliza found herself recalling the events as though through a haze… a dream. Why had she resolved to do such a desperate act, though?

"'Oo are those gents outside, Doctor?"

Dr. Drake cleared his throat. "The oldest gentlemen claims that you are his ward, the other two I am not sure. I do know that the rather loud gentlemen came here first, bearing your photograph so that we were able to identify you."

Eliza pressed her lips into a hard thin line, and frowned. Suddenly, it dawned on her.

"The young chap ruin't an 'ole bunch of violets from me the other night, the angry chap sent me 'ome wiv a pocketful o' coins, an' the old bloke was a right gentlemen. The angry one said 'e could turn me into a lady in a flower shop, an' when I went to me own bed, I was 'finkin' I would take 'im up on that, I would!" The enthusiastic revelation fairly staggered her, and she sunk back against the pillows with another pained groan.

"Would you like me to fetch some morphia for your head?"

Eliza shook her head violently. "I'm a good girl," she moaned.

Dr. Drake nodded, and then excused himself. Eliza closed her eyes, and tried to sleep away the splitting in her head.

Henry had never felt such a surge of hatred for a single person in his life. Every second was a Herculean effort to not run back into Eliza's room and throttle the life out of her. The first time she had spoke upon waking, Henry regarded it as a fluke. Oftentimes, Eliza would regress to her old manner of speech when she was unawares. Then came the total lack of recognition. Then, she spoke again. And again. Henry felt like a child on the beach, meticulously constructing a palace of sand, only to have some ham-fisted bully kick it to the ground at the height of its beauty. She could not have devised a more effective means of wounding him even if she had run him through with a sword instead.

Henry stood, silent, stony and darkly contemplative with Pickering and The Boy. God, why hadn't she had just absconded with the little fool? Even that would have been more merciful than thoughtlessly chucking his grandest work over the Waterloo Bridge along with her ungrateful person.

The sight of Dr. Drake approaching the unhappy little group, pulled Henry from his thoughts. The good doctor turned to Pickering, designating him as the spokesperson for the strange little trio, and asked for an explanation of Eliza's presence in their lives.

With an apprehensive look toward The Boy, who had been completely in the dark over Eliza's origins, Pickering launched into a lengthy explanation, made more lengthy by his flustered stammering. Eliza was a difficult situation to explain without it seeming devious. Henry suppressed a groan when the subject of Eliza's father was broached, and Pickering helpfully explained that Alfred Doolittle had sold Eliza for five pounds.

Dr. Drake stood in stunned silence for several moments before speaking. "I respect your candor, gentlemen. Honesty is going to be absolutely essential in Miss Doolittle's recovery." He flashed a sympathetic grin. "It appears the blow to her head has affected her memory to a certain extent." Dr. Drake put a reassuring hand on one of Pickering's arms. "I do not believe it is permanent, as she seems to be recovering bits of it as we speak… however, I ask that she is allowed a lengthy period of convalescence in a quiet and peaceful environment." A meaningful glance in Henry's direction. "She cannot be pushed or bullied into remembering by any means."

"My poor darling…" whispered The Boy. Apparently, his esteem for Eliza had not diminished one bit from the news of her rustic beginnings.

"Young man, I beg you to bring the ardent lover act back a bit. Miss Doolittle must be treated as though she is just becoming acquainted with you all. Familiar behavior will only serve to confuse her." Dr. Drake studied them all. "Gentle recovery, men. "

"My god!" Henry swore under his breath and looked away. It was almost more than he could bear.

"I should like to keep her overnight for observation. There is still the slightest danger of her developing a fever." Dr. Drake paused. "I will call in the morning when it is safe to retrieve her… hopefully that will be ample time to make living arrangements for the girl. I would feel much better if it were her father taking her in-"

"I assure you, you would not," Henry interject.

"-I would feel much better if it were her father taking her in, but I will refer to Colonel Pickering's judgment on the matter, as he has claimed to be responsible for the girl."

"I am. Her father is a bit of a blackguard, I'm afraid, and not equipped to deal with a healing girl. I've no family myself, and I've recently changed my will to include Miss Doolittle as the main beneficiary," Pickering confessed. Both Henry and The Boy's head turned to the older man at the same time. Pickering had never said such a thing to Henry before.

"Very good of you, old man," The Boy congratulated. "I daresay when I spoke to Eliza's father as to her whereabouts, he only sounded like a rough sort."

"He probably looked it as well, you ridiculous boy; Alfred Doolittle is a common dustman."

The Boy shook his head at Henry. "Oh no, sir! He was being married at St. George when I came across him, looking very well in coattails and a top hat, I might add. There was no mistaking him for Eliza's father once I got the facts. He was coarse looking about the face, so perhaps he has had a hard life, but I daresay he's come into a fortune."

Henry frowned. What a bizarre day!

"Well, the point is moot. We've already told you, we gave him five pounds for her, so she is no longer his concern. Let us leave it at that."

"I will be sure to leave that bit out of my report when I explain things to the girl," Dr. Drake remarked dryly. "Now, if you please, I've a full hospital to tend to, and I do not think Miss Doolittle is ready for visitors just yet. I will have one of the nurses show you out."

Henry walked away from the hospital, feeling grateful for the day's grace he was given, in order to sort out his raging emotions towards Eliza Doolittle. When he got home, he went straight for the study, not waiting for Pickering, and began to drink. It was feeling like a binge night, something he rarely partook in. Pickering entered the room, and silently joined him in his misery.

Before the festivities could really take off, in walked Mrs. Pearce. She inquired about Eliza, and Pickering explained the situation, much to the old woman's horror.

"Perhaps you shall have to find a way to turn down this particular invitation then, sir." Mrs. Pearce held up an official looking envelope.

"What the devil is it?"

"It's addressed to Miss Doolittle… from the Ambassador of Transylvania's wife. She would like for Eliza, and the two of you gentlemen, to join her in a month's time at her manor in the country. She explains that she was absolutely taken with Miss Doolittle, and will not take no for an answer."

The sound of Henry's palm hitting his forehead reverberated throughout the study.


	5. A Plan

A Hole in the River

Chapter Four: A Plan

* * *

"Mother!" Henry shouted as he entered Mrs. Higgins' home for the second time of the day. "What the devil are you doing here?" This was directed at The Boy… Freddy Eynsford-whatever.

"I-…"

"It's quite alright, young man, Higgins is just on edge." God damn it, Henry hated it when Pickering took it upon himself to apologize for him.

Eleanor Higgins walked into the front hallway to greet her son, betraying no astonishment at his unorthodox greeting. The cool eyes behind her calm smile brightened considerably when she noticed the Hill boy.

"Why, young Freddy! How is your mother, dear?"

"Why-…"

"Oh, never mind that, Mother, I've terrible news. Eliza has completely lost her marbles!"

"Oh, Henry!"

"She tried to shake herself loose the mortal coil, and managed to botch it up royally; stupid girl."

Eleanor glared at her son. "Are you disparaging her for not succeeding?"

Henry blanched, and then blushed crimson. "How could you suggest such a thing? No, I am glad she isn't dead, of course. I am damned angry at her for thinking she had no other option but to throw herself off of the Waterloo Bridge!"

"Oh no!" Eleanor pressed her back against the wall, feeling slightly faint.

"She injured her head during the fall… she doesn't remember anything." Henry raked a hand through his hair. "She's reverted back to the squashed cabbage leaf of Covent Garden- all of my hard work…"

Eleanor noted the tone of despair in her son's voice, and took him by the hand, leading him and the other two men to her sitting room. "Poor Eliza! To think, she might have been killed…" She patted her son on the cheek, and gave him a scrutinizing look before softening her features into a sympathetic smile. "Poor Henry."

Freddy, apparently, could not wait another moment. "Gentlemen, I went to 27A to reassure you that you have my complete confidence in regards to Eliza's condition. I was told I had just missed you, and was redirected to your excellent mother's home, and I took a taxi in my haste." He placed his right hand over his heart. "I shan't tell a soul!"

Henry felt the ill-regard he had towards the boy lift slightly. "Good man," he replied flatly, before turning to back to his mother. "Now, Mother-"

"Couldn't you just teach her again?" Freddy interrupted.

"Don't you know it is rude to interrupt?" Henry fired back. To his mother, "I've received an invitation from the Ambassador to Transylvania's wife, requesting Eliza's presence at her country home in _shire, in one month's time. I am at a loss…"

"Henry, she may recover in a month's time-"

"And she may not!" Henry savagely interrupted Eleanor.

"Higgins, couldn't we do as the boy says and teach it to her all over again?" Pickering asked in his soothing way.

"One month, Pickering! Not to mention the added headache of country etiquette… damn!"

"Now, Henry, that is easily rectified." Eleanor Higgins gave her son a patented 'you silly boy' look, and continued. "She will need a place to recover from her accident; what better location than my country home? It is not far from the Ambassador's summer home, after all- and I could accompany you to help Eliza with the more delicate side of feminine behavior." She straightened her spine and gave her son, and Pickering a serious look. "You seemed to have failed to work the rougher edges the last time around."

"That is a fine idea, Mrs. Higgins," Pickering congratulated.

Eleanor nodded, giving no pretensions of being humble. It was a good idea. "Young Freddy is welcome to join us as well, for I know him as a fine gamesman, and my estate is fairly overrun."

Henry's expression soured considerably.

"Henry, don't look so glum. I know you enjoy the hunt as much as any man, and young Freddy may afford some healthy competition." Eleanor smiled in a manner that Henry perceived as secretive. She was a sharp woman, his mother, and he didn't wonder if she saw something the others did not.

"I would be delighted to join you all, thanks very much!" Freddy exclaimed, good-naturedly. "I daresay I could show Eliza a bit in regards to horsemanship. She could have the finest seat in England by time I am through with her." Henry glared daggers at the boy's choice of words. They damn near sounded impertinent!

Eleanor clapped her hands together and laughed. "Good! It is decided then. Once Eliza is released from Hospital, we will whisk her off to the countryside. The air will improve her outlook considerably."

"But still, one month…"

"Tosh, Henry! I am sure the knowledge is still there, only buried. She is a clever girl, I saw it myself."

"I agree with Mrs. Higgins; I believe Miss Doolittle can do anything." Freddy's love struck vote of confidence caused Henry to roll his eyes.

"That is true, sir." Pickering really needed to stop addressing the pup as though he were one of their peers.

Irritating or not, his companions' faith in Eliza did wonders to encourage Henry that the task in hand was not as difficult as previously believed.

Eliza Doolittle was apprehensive to say the least. Dr. Drake had given her a clean bill of health, and took it upon himself to explain what was to happen next. Her old flat had apparently been let months ago, and she had been staying with the Angry Man, trying to better herself through elocution lessons. The Angry Man's name was Henry Higgins, and his kind, older, companion was named Colonel Pickering. The handsome young man was Freddy Eynsford-Hill, and they had met at a horse race.

Eliza had to take a few minutes to register that shock that her father was now a wealthy man, and married to boot. Eliza wondered briefly if that made her an heiress, but then deduced that her father would more than likely drink away the money before he obliged everyone by dying. Ah well, Eliza always expected to some extent that she would have to make her own fortune.

A thrill raced through Eliza when she remembered where she would be going after the hospital. Recovery in the countryside, imagine that! Her nose lifted just a hitch, when she thought of all the servants that would be fawning over her hand-and-foot while she lay prone in a bed far more magnificent than the hard cot she was now residing on.

"Loverly," she whispered.

An hour later, Eliza found herself in the arms of Henry Higgins, being carried to a taxi. The younger man had made a move to pick her up, but Henry moved quickly, nearly bowling Freddy Eynsford-Hill over in the process.

"I'm not as old as that, boy," Henry snapped.

Eliza blushed when Freddy threw a blanket over her knees, tucking it in snugly. She noticed that he was blushing as well.

"Are you very comfortable, Miss Doolittle?" Freddy asked, breathlessly.

"Erm… O'course. Thank'ee, Freddy. "

Eliza overhead a loud groan from outside the taxi.

"Wot's that, Professor?" Eliza inquired.

Henry peered inside the taxi. "Nothing that cannot be remedied, Eliza."

Eliza smiled at him. "That's a mercy, innit?"

"Is it not."

"Right."

Soon, the door was closed, the automobile fired up, and the journey begun.


	6. Arrival

A Hole in the River

Chapter Six: Arrival

* * *

The air was different in the country, Eliza noted. The first breath shook her to the very core, comparable to an icy punch in the stomach. After the initial shock, Eliza found that she could breath easier than ever before, although had she never taken an excursion outside of London, she most likely would never know the difference.

To Eliza's great surprise, Mrs. Higgins owned both a motorcar and a coach, both of which were sent to collect Eliza and the rest of the party from the train station.

"Stop gaping like a fish, Eliza," Professor Higgins hissed into her ear.

"You must be very 'igh class indeed, Mrs. 'Iggins!" Eliza exclaimed, not quite under her breath, drawing some strange looks in their direction in the process.

"It is not something a lady divulges, Eliza," Mrs. Higgins chided, softly.

Soon after, the party was ready to be off. Eliza, after an agonizingly difficult decision, had opted to ride in the motorcar. She was given a hat with a very wide brim that was adorned with fine netting, a pair of goggles, and a leather duster.

"Aoow! Don't I look silly?" She had asked the others, before they boarded the coach. Mr. Eynsford-Hill, Mrs. Higgins, and Colonel Pickering smiled indulgently at her query, Professor Higgins rolled his eyes, but she detected a twitch at the corner of his lips.

"Ridiculously so," Professor Higgins commented.

After an hour of dusty and rocky driving, the novelty Eliza's open-air drive was beginning to wear off considerably. Eliza looked over her shoulder, and sighed wistfully at the slow, but elegant and covered specter of the coach in the distance.

"We are nearly there, Miss Doolittle," The driver assured her. Eliza nodded in acknowledgment, feeling a bit queasy.

Mercifully, they arrived to the grounds without any embarrassing sort of incident. Eliza was assisted out of the motorcar by the driver. A stately woman that Eliza identified as the housekeeper approached her, and Eliza hastily pulled off her hat and goggles, mindless to the fact that her hair was askew and she looked a general fright.

"The others will be arriving shortly, Mrs. Leslie. This is Miss Doolittle." The old woman smiled warmly at Eliza, and nodded.

"The guest of honor. I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Doolittle." Eliza impulsively took the woman's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Thankee kindly, ma'am. May I just say that this is the most beeyootiful place I've ever seen, an' I used to sell flowers near St. Paul's, I did." Eliza was not lying. She loved everything about the estate. It was so sprawling and immaculately kept. The lawn stretched on for yards and yards of emerald, and the home itself towered imperiously over Eliza, and yet still managed to welcome her with it's warm, auburn bricks, and elegantly arched windows.

"Praise indeed." Eliza noticed Mrs. Leslie's scrutinizing gaze was now rested on her bandaged forehead.

"Gracious! They allowed you to take a trip in the motorcar with a head injury?"

Eliza started to protest, but in truth, her head was throbbing. She swayed on her feet, and fervently wished she had a means to sit down.

"Foolish. Come along, Miss Doolittle." Mrs. Leslie placed a guiding hand on Eliza's back and guided her towards the front entrance of the house.

"You, girl! Take Miss Doolittle to her rooms and be sure that she is taken care of; the poor girl is exhausted and requires rest." Eliza was traded off to a young woman in a white mobcap, who led her up the front staircase, down several winding corridors, to a finely furnished set of rooms.

Eliza gawked at her surroundings, but was pulled out of her wonder-filled stupor when the little maid removed her duster, and began unbuttoning Eliza's blouse. The young woman cried out when Eliza delivered a smart slap to her fingers.

"I can undress meself, thankee very much!"

"I beg your pardon miss; I didn't mean to cause offense." Eliza felt a stab of guilt when the maid lowered her eyes.

"I am sorry. I ain't used t'havin' people wait on me."

The misunderstanding having been cleared up, Eliza was shown around her suite. She exclaimed loudly at the prospect of her own water closet, and a bath to boot. Though she could not clearly recall having a bath before in her life, and had even remembered at one point being horrified at the thought of being naked and immersed in scalding water, it was strange that the idea did not hold the horror it once did.

"Would you like me to draw you up a bath, miss? Those roads are unforgivably dusty."

"Yes, thank you," Eliza responded.

Henry arrived at the home of his childhood summers, and felt his burden lift somewhat. The sight of Mrs. Leslie, perpetually grey and stern, stirred something decades old within Henry, which nearly compelled him to run to her and confess his fears and hurts against the comfort of her rustling skirts. Mrs. Leslie, despite her dour appearance, had always been a source of love and safety for Henry when he was a small boy. His own mother, while absolutely dear to him, had not always been the most demonstrative of females, and had spent a great deal of her time laboring over accounts, and the overseeing of several households. Mrs. Leslie, whose burdens were similar, had nonetheless always found time for her young master.

"Bets!" Cried Henry, in a rare show of real affection. He threw open the door of the coach, ran to the old woman, and kissed both of her cheeks soundly.

"Calm yourself, young master Henry. Such an impetuous child…" Mrs. Leslie scolded through her blushing smile.

"Where is Miss Doolittle? Out scandalizing the entire household with her rough speech, no doubt."

Mrs. Leslie shook her head. "I have sent the lamb to her rooms. The rough roads jostled her most unpleasantly, and I daresay aggravated her wounds."

Henry felt some guilt at the news. He had not thought to protest Eliza's decision to ride in the motorcar.

Mrs. Leslie did not have a chance to chide him further, for his mother approached the pair, followed by Pickering and the Hill Boy. Henry stepped aside and allowed Eleanor to make introductions, and inquire over the running of the household.

Henry's gaze wandered to the various staff who were in the process of carrying luggage into the house. He snorted when he thought about the previous morning, when Pickering, in a bizarre flurry, had phoned (and bribed) nearly every dressmaker in town to assemble a replacement wardrobe for Eliza.

"_The damned ungrateful girl should be made to walk about the country in burlap_," Henry had remarked.

"_Higgins, really! What an absurd thing to say; of course she must have new clothes. What would the Ambassador's wife say?"_

_"Ha! The way those society bees were buzzing around my Eliza at the ball? She would probably declare it the newest fashion craze. The streets would be crawling with pretty young things clad in shapeless sacks."_ The two men shared a laugh over the absurdity of Henry's statement, and Pickering had continued his quest for suitable replacement clothes.

"Be sure the proper trunks are taken to Miss Doolittle's suite," Eleanor ordered.

"Quickly too," Henry remarked. Under his breath he added. "I am sure she is tired of wearing the same clothes she was dragged from the river in." The last bit still managed to reach the ears of his traveling companions, and three sets of disapproving glares were thrown his way.

After a brief rest, dinner was announced. Henry, rationalizing to himself that it was all in the name of educational purposes, made sure that Eliza was seated next to him at the table. He managed to bite his tongue when Freddy appeared at Eliza's opposite side.

Henry painstakingly pointed out the function of every utensil before Eliza, and without asking for permission, got up from his chair to adjust Eliza's posture. The girl sputtered her protests, and Freddy gave a spirited "See here!", but eventually, Eliza sat ramrod straight in her chair.

"Strange," Eliza murmured once she had been corrected.

"What is it, Miss Doolittle?" Freddy asked, boldly taking of her hands into his own.

"It feels nat'ral like; as though I've not been slouchin' me 'ole life."

"You always had the most singularly beautiful posture." All eyes were on Henry, who himself was shocked at issuing such a compliment so naturally. Eliza blushed.

"Well, it is true, I say."

"Thankee, Professor."

"No, no, Eliza. You must enunciate and make your words separate from each other. Thank. You. Try putting a slight pause at the end of each word."

Eliza obediently complied to his request. The accent was still wretched, but at least the words did not blend together into one.

Throughout the dinner, Henry began to realize something. Although it appeared Eliza's former lessons had been scoured from her brain, it was apparently not the case. Every single time Henry took it upon himself to correct Eliza, she seemed to comply to the requests without a bit of mental struggle, as though she was not being taught so much as she was being reminded.

_My dear, clever girl_. The endearment entered Henry's mind, completely unbidden. Since when had Eliza become his dear anything? Henry felt his fists clench at his side when he spied the Hill boy, making calf-eyes at Eliza, making conversation with Eliza, making…

"Boy, I will ask you to stop being a distraction. Dinner table or no, Eliza is technically in a school room atmosphere, and I must have her undivided attention!" Henry turned his sudden wrath upon Eliza. "Good girls do not, I repeat, do not allow strange men to kiss their hands at the dinner table, is that clear?"

Eliza turned her eyes to her plate and nodded. Attacking her sense of propriety seemed to be the right mode in this instance.

"Good lord, Henry! You express your disapproval very strongly," Eleanor remarked. She was once again wearing that knowing smirk that bothered Henry to no end.

"Young people, I declare, are allowed to become more and more bold in their affections everyday," observed Pickering. "I think it is sweet to see such an ardent display, Mr. Eynsford-Hill." He winked at Eliza. "I daresay she is a prize worth having."

Eliza gave a start so violent that it shook the table ever so slightly. She stood up, cheeks burning with a humiliated blush, eyes blazing. "I ain't a prize, Colonel! No one is goin' to be owning' me, not as long as I live." She took a deep breath. "'Scuse me." With that, Eliza fled the room, carrying herself away with surprising grace, given her fit of temper. Henry felt pleased, despite himself.


	7. Routine

A Hole in the River

Chapter Seven: Routine

* * *

"Henry, the girl needs rest!"

"She can rest when this ordeal is over, Mother. Now, kindly rouse Eliza, and I will have a strong pot of coffee brewed for her when she comes down for breakfast."

"Henry, breakfast isn't for two hours!"

"Silly Mother; I've informed Mrs. Leslie of the new schedule, and she has informed the staff…."

Eliza blearily awoke to the sounds of Professor Higgins and his mother, arguing outside her bedroom door. She was instantly sobered when Henry threatened to enter the room and rouse her himself, and pulled the covers over her head to protect her modesty.

"Oh, really! It is not to be borne… Henry, you go downstairs at once, and I will wake her up!"

Shortly after the Professor's footsteps retreated, the bedroom door was opened; Mrs. Higgins entered, and very quietly made her way to Eliza's bedside.

"Miss Doolittle…"

"I'm awake… is 'e gone?" Eliza inquired from beneath the sanctity of her covers.

"Of course. Fear not, I would never allow him to be so ill-mannered as to enter a lady's room."

Eliza pulled the covers off of her head, and scrutinized Mrs. Higgins. "You called me a lady, you did."

Mrs. Higgins lifted her chin with a smile. "Of course I did, Miss Doolittle, for that is what you are." Eliza's face brightened considerably.

"I don't mind the early hours, Ma'am. I 'ad to get up earlier then this to get a jump on the best blossoms when I was workin' Covent Garden."

"It is unacceptable, nonetheless. Forgive me for my son; I fear I had everything to do with him becoming the task-master he is today."

"S'alright, Ma'am. 'E don't scare me- It's almost as though I'm used to it, you know?"

"You did spend the better part of a year with him, so it is not unusual, I suppose."

Eliza nodded. "Me 'ead's a blank as far as the past year goes, but I feel like I know what to be expectin' wiv 'im."

"You were always more patient with my son that what he deserved, my dear."

Eliza giggled. "Well, I better be gettin' meself ready for the day, so you-know-'oo don't come bargin' in to scandalize us all."

Mrs. Higgins leaned forward and kissed Eliza's forehead. "I will send a maid in to fix your hair."

Henry tapped an impatient beat on the breakfast nook table. He never understood how females could spend the better part of an hour getting prepared for the day when it took him little over a quarter of that time. He repressed a frustrated sigh when Eliza finally appeared, clean-faced and well coiffed. Never mind that she was quite charming in white batiste, that was quite beside the point. Henry liked to pretend that he did not notice how consistently attractive Eliza was.

"Mornin', Professor 'Iggins." When she opened her mouth and spoke, Henry found the pretense of indifference to her looks remarkably easy to uphold.

"Good morning, Eliza."

Eliza looked around, puzzled. "Where's Mrs. 'Iggins and t'other blokes?"

Henry frowned. "They are taking breakfast elsewhere. Mother and Pickering are too soft, and that stupid boy, Freddy Eynsford-Hill, is a distraction. You will see them later in the day, when I'm done with you."

So began the tedious task of re-educating Eliza. They spent the better part of the morning going over appropriate greetings for different parts of the day. Eliza stammered and struggled, but did so with an admirable determination to succeed. Finally, the 'nin' was banished from 'mornin', and it became 'morning'. Eliza's complexion was flushed, and her eyes shining with unshed, frustrated tears by the time it was accomplished.

"Well done," Henry remarked before realizing what he had just said.

Eliza regarded him with a strange expression on her face. "Rare, that is. You don't like giving out compliments so easy, you don't."

Henry was speechless. True, she could have very well gleaned that fact from the short time she had spent in his company since the hospital, but still... _Come back to me, girl! _Henry bit back the urge to give voice to the plea that had been echoing in his brain for the past week. He carefully schooled his features, straightened his spine, and looked down at her imperiously.

"Say your vowels."

It was nearly ten before Henry released Eliza to Freddy Eynsford-Hill. Henry did so with great reluctance, feeling that he could just as easily teach Eliza about the intricacies of equestrianism. Henry had been quite impressive in his youth, when it came to such things, or so he thought.

Unbeknownst to the youthful pair, Henry resorted to skulking about concealed corners and behind obliging trees, in order to spy their progress. He rationalized that it was purely in the interest of ensuring that the simpering whelp was imparting useful wisdom on Eliza. He would not bear to stand ignorant if the boy were to abuse the time as an opportunity to romance Eliza with nonsense.

Henry cringed as he endured the young man's enthusiastic overtures regarding the smartness of Eliza's riding apparel - It was not as though Eliza could be credited for the clothes on her back, after all! .

Henry smiled when Eliza's fervent protests over the option to ride astride became quite loud. It seemed her show of temper was flummoxing her modern and sweet-tempered suitor.

"Side saddle is wot genteel ladies do!" She cried. That settled that.

Henry felt a burst of pride at Eliza's natural inclinations towards riding. She sat tall, and quite elegant once the initial awkwardness had passed. He noticed that the Hill boy was in awe of her as well, gazing up with a dazed expression...

The boy was really too handsome to be allowed. Henry began to feel the faint sting of insecurity as he continued his observations. Eliza seemed to be responding well to Freddy's artifice of good looks; every time he shot her a winning, encouraging grin, Eliza's cheeks would glow with an infatuated blush, and she would charmingly cast down her eyes. Henry was loathe to admit, even to himself, that the two made quite a dazzlingly vital pair.

"Ah, Professor Higgins!" Damn it! The boy had spotted Henry, and was striding confidently in his direction, leaving Eliza on her perch.

"I say - doesn't she look magnificent?"

Henry was very nearly disarmed by the expectant look in Eliza's eyes when he deigned to study her form. The tremulous smile on her well-shaped lips threatened to undo him completely. He suddenly recalled the flirtatious doe eyes she had recently bestowed on her moronic suitor, and the spell was broken. He was very much resolved to knock her off of her pedestal. So he did.

"Oh, the horse, you mean? My mother has the finest eye for horseflesh there ever was; pity that poor Gaia's beauty is being marred at the moment by such a gauche specimen of femininity." Henry's voice dripped with a malicious sort of venom, usually absent from his jibes. Eliza's sharp intake of breath was heard by both gentlemen. Henry immediately longed to take back his words when the light in Eliza's eyes was extinguished, and her features turned ashen. Neither Henry, nor Freddy spoke; one gentleman silenced by guilt, the other struck dumb by the sheer discourtesy of the statement he had bore witness to.

Henry cried out in alarm when Eliza made a sudden, and unfortunate dismount. In her haste, a series of entanglements caused her to slip, and land hard on her gloved hands. Both men moved to help her up, but she rose swiftly to her full, not-unimpressive height, and shoved away the aiding hands, refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

Both men spoke at once. Henry beginning with "Eliza-", and Freddy with "Miss Doolittle-", both cut off by Eliza as she turned and fled. Freddy gave pursuit, and Henry, although fiendishly jealous, hadn't the strength to interfere. Even though his imagination was barraged with images of the boy, caressing Eliza's soft hair and holding her as she wept with the culmination of a lover's first kiss, Henry made no move. What on earth could he say that would stop her tears and ease her pain? Henry was famously undemonstrative, and would probably just end up making things worse.

With a heavy heart, he returned to the main house, determined to forget the events of the day.


	8. Amends and Arrivals

A Hole in the River

Chapter Eight: Amends and Arrivals

Author's Note: I realize this chapter was a long time coming, but real life and lack of motivation struck hard. I hope you enjoy it, and whether you do or not, I would love to hear your thoughts on it! Reviews are always welcome.

* * *

Eliza wandered aimlessly, occasionally bringing up a clenched fist to dash at the angry, traitorous tears that burned her eyes. She increased her pace at the sound of footfalls and her name being cried imploringly. It was that handsome, foolish boy that was apparently besotted with her. If Eliza wasn't so mightily put out, she might have laughed at the thought. What toff in his right mind would fancy her?

"Leave me be, you great fool!" Eliza turned angrily on Freddy. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at his hurt expression.

"What would you have me do, my darling? - Shall I fight him?" Eliza noted a slight tremble of hesitation when Freddy brought up the prospect of fighting for her honor. He was not at all like the rough and tumble crowd she had been raised around. The boys she grew up with needed little excuse for a bit of a tussle, and threw themselves into the matter with gusto. Here was a gently bred specimen of manhood, fearfully offering to slay the dragon that was Professor Higgins.

"I won't 'ave your pretty face marred on my account." She narrowed her eyes at him, and added "You ought to call me, Miss Doolittle, you ought. I ain't your darlin'... yet." The 'yet' was stated with a sly smile. Why not flirt a little? The boy flattered her vanity, which felt immensely good considering the blow her ego had taken earlier. Freddy's shy blush pleased Eliza.

"May I escort you back to the main house, Miss Doolittle? I daresay Mrs. Higgins will be requiring our presence for luncheon, and for your next lesson." Freddy offered his arm, which Eliza gladly accepted. "Keep your head up, Miss Doolittle. Let's not give Professor Higgins the satisfaction of seeing you downtrodden."

"Stiff upper," Eliza replied, tilting her chin upwards and affecting a perfect countenance of condescension.

The pair arrived to find Professor Higgins decidedly absent from the table. Mrs. Higgins explained that her son had excused himself on the grounds that his appetite was not very great. Eliza detected something in the old woman's demeanor that betrayed a greater knowledge of the events of the day then what was let on. Colonel Pickering appeared affable as usual, bursting with questions as to Eliza's merits as a horsewoman, Freddy was only too happy to report that she was exceeding all expectations.

"Fantastic!" Pickering exclaimed, while assisting Eliza with a chair.

After a peaceful lunch, Eliza found herself being escorted to the ballroom. Mrs. Higgins explained that Eliza would be learning to dance, and that Freddy would be her partner for the lesson. Colonel Pickering volunteered to provide the music, and situated himself behind a piano.

"A musically inclined military man, how refreshing," Mrs. Higgins remarked kindly.

"I was brought up in a house completely void of sisters, my mother needed to teach the arts to somebody, and my father did not object," The Colonel replied good-naturedly, unashamed of revealing his diverse upbringing. With a flourish, he began to play a lively waltz.

Henry was reading within the comforts of his private study, when the sound of laughter intruded on his solitude. Only one person possessed such a laugh, childish in its jubilance, but with a throaty quality that was most decidedly womanly. Eliza. It pained him to realize that in their many months of acquaintance, he had heard it so infrequently. There had been the trip to Brighton, where all its bright trappings had brought Eliza to such a state of childlike amusement, that Henry himself had not been untouched by it. Before that was the night Eliza had tackled that awful sentence that had plagued her for weeks. The rain in Spain...

Henry found himself following the sound, like a sailor to a siren. Something nagged at him urged him to find out who had Eliza in such a state. He found himself standing at the entrance to the ballroom, staring at the awkward spectacle of that Hill boy and Eliza attempting a waltz. The boy was completely wrong-footed, and at one point Henry found himself wondering if Eliza would start leading him in the dance. Still, the mood was most decidedly light. Henry's mother was admonishing the pair, but completely without force, laughing along with them. Henry felt as though he were glued to the spot, unable to make himself known in the midst of such unabashed merriment.

In a flurry of botched footwork, Freddy fell forward, and Eliza, unable to support his sudden weights, fell back. Henry watched as the pair momentarily held their position on the floor in a tableau that was practically indecent. Henry took the opportunity to cross the room, intent of pulling the young man off of Eliza and quite possibly throttling him for the impertinence. Before he could reach them, however, Freddy stood up, hair askew and cheeks blazing. His color deepened when he came face to face with Henry, and with a quick bow fled the room. Henry offered a hand to Eliza, who studied it for a moment, as though to detect a hidden weapon, before accepting his assistance.

"Are you unhurt, Miss Doolittle?" Pickering inquired, rushing to her side after recovering from the shock of her fall.

"Yes, Cap-... Colonel Pickering, thank you." Eliza's correct reply was spoken softly, barely above a mortified whisper, she refused to make eye contact with any of the room's occupants.

"Back to your post, Pick, the lesson is not yet over." Henry boldly reached out to gently lift Eliza's chin, forcing her to make eye contact. "In lieu of the unfortunate disappearance of Mr. Eynsford-Hill, may I be permitted to act as your partner in his absence?" Eliza felt herself grow warm at the gentle, soothing quality in Henry's request. His voice contained none of the biting wit that had so effectively cut down her self-esteem earlier. It was practically an apology, and under his imploring gaze, Eliza found herself unable to refuse.

The music was queued up, and Eliza was soon gliding effortlessly around the room in Professor Higgins' arms. After several moments, Mrs. Higgins ceased counting out the steps, as she had done before. There was no need, this was familiar territory to Eliza.

"Well done, Eliza, well done," Professor Higgins whispered. Eliza glowed from the praise as they continued, unable to contain her radiant smile.

"Thank you, Professor Higgins," Eliza whispered back, gasping slightly on the 'H' to insure she would get it right.

Before another word could be exchanged, the group was interrupted by Mrs. Higgins butler.

"A Mrs. Eynsford-Hill has come to call."

The music ended with an abrupt chord.


	9. Whoso list to hunt?

A Hole in the River

Chapter Nine

Whoso List to Hunt

Author's note: I don't know what to say other than I am very sorry about the wait. So sorry, in fact, that I give you an unbeta'd chapter. My own beta is without internet access, and I am currently searching for one to take her place. Please private message me if you are keen to the task! Thank you again, and enjoy this short update.

* * *

"Professor..."

Henry glanced down at Eliza, and came to the realization that he was practically crushing her against him, so great was his shock at the butler's announcement. He released her, and was quite astonished at the queer hollow feeling that came directly after. Her warmth had been a comfort, and the protective gesture had felt quite natural. Henry looked to his Mother, who seemed to be decidedly at a loss - Pickering's expression was little better.

"Ma'am?"

Eleanor blinked twice, as though waking from a particularly bad dream. "G-good Heavens, what an unexpected surprise, indeed - please, show her in."

"What?" Henry's high pitched exclamation would undoubtedly carry to Mrs. Eynsford-Hill's ears.

"Henry, what am I to do? She's one of my oldest friends, really."

"Eliza is not fit for outside company at the moment, Mother. She's going to be a disaster!"

Between the bickering between son and mother, and the hasty retreat of the butler, no one seemed to notice how Eliza's features soured at the word 'disaster'. Her eyes fell to the floor, and she glared at it - an age old method she often employed to fight tears.

A hush fell over the room when Mrs. Eynsford-Hill entered. Eulalie Eynsford-Hill's plump face lit up when she spotted her old friend. "My dear, forgive the intrusion. Freddy left without so much as a by-your-leave, only a short note explaining that he had been invited on an improptu holiday to your country home. He is the most forgetful boy, and I am almost certain that he neglected to inform me of my invitation as well, in his eagerness to be near the sublime Miss Doolittle." Eulalie shifted her attention to Eliza, who was as white as parchment, and trembling nearly imperceptibly. "How are you, my dear?"

In an instant, all eyes were on Eliza. She became quite flushed when she sensed that the entire room was waiting on a response to Eulalie's inquiry.

"I am... quite well, thank you."

"Eulalie, dear, I think you would be very comfortable indeed if you were shown to your rooms. I am dreadfully sorry about the miscommunication involving your invitation to the country, but assure you it still stands... come with me." Eleanor, relieved, but still wanting the scene to be at an end, unceremoniously took her dear friend by the arm and ushered her from the room.

"That imbecile!" Henry thundered, once his mother and Eulalie were out of hearing range.

"Higgins, he could have hardly left his mother without so much as an explanation," Pickering reasoned. Henry turned on his friend, with a scowl.

"Am I to conduct her lessons under the cloak of darkness now? How in the blazes can we go on as we have, with that suspicious, overbearing shrew looking over our shoulders?"

"We will find a way... perhaps your mother can keep her diverted?"

"Don't be daft, Pick, you heard the woman; she knows her precious boy is infatuated with our Eliza, and it is very doubtful that she is going to let a prospective daughter-in-law out of her sight for anything!"

"Cloak of darkness it is, then."

Eliza once again found herself witnessing a conversation regarding herself that was carried out in a manner that suggested no one was aware she was in the room. What was even more frustrating to her, was the fact that she had spoken to Freddy's mother without so much as a faint echo of cockney, and without acknowledgement. Even dogs were rewarded for a job well done.

A ghost of something distant and foreign rose to her mind, and she could've sworn that there were traces of cigar smoke, laughter, and self-congratulatory applause in the air. This complete disregard of her presence was not a new thing, then. She fought back the urge to chuck something at both of their heads. Slippers?

"Take your slippers, and may you never have a day's luck with them," she muttered to herself.

"Eliza?" Henry overheard the remark, in between discussing the severity of the situation to Pickering. A feeling of hope so strong and savage filled him with a force that nearly took his breath away. He wanted to grab Eliza, hold her fast, and not let her go for the world.

"I was angry with you... so very angry." Eliza frowned at him. The revelations felt like a migraine, and old feelings were coursing through her like internal fire, her heart pounding so fiercely that it made her dizzy.

"You remember?"

His inquiry went without an answer for the moment. Eliza had sunk to the floor in a dead faint.

"Good God, Pickering!"

The older man brushed past a stunned Henry, and knelt down in order to lift Eliza from the floor. Pickering was still in possession of remarkably youthful strength, and managed to take the girl in his arms as though she weighed little more than a sack of potatoes.

"Open that window, man, the child needs air." Henry hesitantly sprang to action, surprised by the commanding tone in his friend's voice. Eliza was gently laid down on a chaise lounge near the open window.

"Do you suppose she remembers everything?" Henry asked.

"I do not know, but it would not be wise to press the girl once she awakens." Pickering glanced at the door. "I am going to fetch a nurse."

Henry found himself alone with a prone and unconscious Eliza. Part of him was elated at the prospect of her recovered memory, but another part of him shuddered at the look she had given him when she was in the midst of recalling the night she had fled. Hatred had fairly oozed from her pores, erasing the memory of her sweet face gazing up at him as they danced. He could readily admit that he was frightened. She had tried to kill herself as a result of that dispute... what might she do once she recalled it in all its entirety?

His heart nearly stopped beating when her eyes fluttered open.

"Eliza, I-..." Henry was cut off short with the arrival of Pickering, a nurse, his mother, Freddy and Mrs. Eynsford-Hill.

"My darling Miss Doolittle!" Freddy exclaimed.

"With all due respect, I should like to examine Miss Doolittle in privacy," The nurse intervened, before Freddy could throw himself at the side of his beloved, and as a direct result, cause Henry serious indigestion. The nurse looked at everyone sternly, uncaring about hierarchy, but very concerned with her patient at hand. "Out!"

The group was promptly ushered from the room. Eleanor led her guests to the parlour, where Eulalie addressed Pickering.

"Freddy has told me that Miss Doolittle is your ward, and therefore heiress to quite an extensive fortune."


	10. Overcome

A Hole in the River

Chapter Ten:

Overcome

Author's note: It's kind of a habit of mine, once I write one chapter, I immediately have several in me. Expect pretty regular updates from here on out, folks. Love ya!

* * *

"Eulalie, my dear, that's a bit too forward, even for you." Eleanor Higgins found herself scolding her friend in a tone she usually reserved for Henry.

Eulalie waved a dismissive hand at Eleanor, and ignored her son humiliated hiss of "Mother!"

"Forgive me, Colonel, but my son is quite infatuated with this charming, but mysterious young woman... I confess I know absolutely nothing about her. What sort of mother would I be if I allowed him to pursue her, sight unseen?"

"Ridiculous', Henry muttered, 'you just saw her not a moment ago."

"That is not what I mean, of course, Professor Higgins. You know very well that these things are still of import."

"Not to me. I would take her like a shot, with just the clothes on her back!" Freddy defended his love admirably, but with a timid waver to his voice.

"And if you would be so keen to do something like that, my son, I should cut off what little money you have coming to you for such foolishness!"

Pickering decided to intervene. "Now then, there's no need for ugliness. That is all irrelevant. Eliza is going to be quite comfortable, I assure you. I even plan on giving her a very generous dowry, that hopefully her father can also contribute too."

"Her father?" Eulalie Eynsford-Hill's eyes sparkled at the prospect of another benefactor.

"He recently came into a considerable fortune. I had decided to settle on Eliza long before this happened... I knew her mother. She was a family friend who fell on hard times."

"How very kind of you, Colonel, to ensure the safety and comfort of a young person. Such a selfless, sweet man."

Henry rolled his eyes. "This is all fine and good, but shouldn't we also question how well your son would be able to provide for my-... erm... our Eliza?"

Everyone decided to speak up nearly at once.

"Freddy is a fine young man!" Eulalie defended.

"I love Miss Doolittle with every breath in my body!" Freddy chimed in, passionately.

"If the boy is so fond of Miss Doolittle, as her guardian, I can have no objection."

"Unless you have some sort of serious objection, Henry?" His mother's inquiry was presented with a smirk, and a knowing tone of voice. With that, all eyes were on Henry, waiting for an answer.

His complexion colored considerably at the audience, and he found himself stammering.

"Dash it all, when on earth is that nurse going to tell us how Eliza fares?" He thundered, finally, before turning on his heel and making his way back to the ballroom.

He met the nurse just as she was heading to the parlour. "Well?" He barked.

"You must cease working the girl so very hard. She is fragile, and I have been informed about her accident. Needless to say, her memory is returning to her, thank the Maker. You mustn't push her though, sir-" She was cut off when Henry brushed past her and into the ballroom.

"Eliza!" She was sitting upright on the chaise lounge, eyes downcast. Henry was struck with how very beautiful she looked at the moment, in her violet gown of crepe silk, and the sunlight catching her hair. He never noticed that subtle streaks of honey and bronze in the hair he had normally just written off as 'brown'. Beautiful, but angry.

"You are quite well, I hope?" Henry inquired.

Eliza raised her eyes to his in a direct gaze. Brandy colored, not brown, he observed.

"I am... well, sir."

Henry coughed, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. "That's good then. Now, Eliza-"

"I remember that night."

"Yes?"

"The ball, the row, the bridge... everything."

Henry, overcome with a feeling he could not quell, strode over to the chaise and knelt down, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Why did you jump?"

"I wanted to jump because I had no place in the world to go. I did not jump, because I became afraid to die. I fell because I was clumsy."

"'No place to go'? You silly thing, you could have stayed with me!"

"In what capacity? I am no longer your student, you have enough servants, and you have no inclination towards marriage whatsoever! Why torture myself, and ruin my reputation in the process?"

They were veering towards very foreign territory for Henry. "Torture youself? Why on earth would resuming as we were be a torment?" He nearly swore an impressive bloody oath when her answer was once again interrupted by the arrival of that idiotic boy, and the rest of the party. He hands itched to wring the boy's neck, when the child nearly bowled Henry out of the way, to kneel in front of Eliza, and take her hands in his.

"Miss Doolittle, I am glad to hear the nurse thinks you will be well. I was in torment when I saw you lying on the chaise, pale as a spectre."

"Thank you, Mr. Eynsford-Hill, that is very kind. I am sorry to have caused you any undue distress." Eliza gently, but firmly pulled her hands from his grip, and into her lap, keeping her face neutral.

"My mother has been talking things over with your guardian, Colonel Pickering, and I believe I have consent to-"

"Oh, Freddy, my dear, oughtn't we give you some privacy?" Eulalie Eynsford-Hill interrupted, cheeks pink with pleasure that her son decided to take action immediately.

"What for?" Eliza and Henry found themselves asking in unison.

"Oh, Mother, I do not wish to be private. I wish the whole world to know of my regard!" Freddy turned to Eliza. "Dearest, sweetest, Miss Doolittle... would you do me the honor of becoming mine?"

The phrasing struck a chord with Henry. _Mine_. Henry glanced at Eliza, and could see that the inquiry was ill-done in her mind as well. Her pretty mouth was open, and her eyes held a look of overwhelmed astonishment. Henry looked to his mother, who happened to have the same expression as Eliza. Pickering seemed transported by the romance, and Mrs. Eynsford-Hill was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Eliza did not speak for a long time.

"R-regretfully, sir, I must refuse."

"Darling?"

"I am... most flattered by your proposal, but I hardly know you." Eliza took in Freddy's crestfallen expression, and panicked. "Please, Mr. Eynsford-Hill, do not take it as a definite refusal. I should very much like to know you better."

Henry found himself going from over-the-moon elation at her refusal of the boy, to confused anger at her last second backtracking.

"You are giving me permission to court you?" Freddy's eyes glistened, and his fine lips broke into a boyish grin.

"I believe I am."

Freddy took her hands once more and brought them to his lips, kissing them fervently. Eliza let out a little cry of alarm, and Henry moved towards the boy, intent on pulling him up by his scruff like an irritating puppy. Freddy sprung to his feet before such an action could be taken.

"Thank you, Miss Doolittle! You've made me the happiest man in England!"

"You will note she did not say 'yes', you fool."

Freddy smiled at Henry. "Not yet, but when she does, I shall be the happiest man on Earth."

"I believe we could all benefit from some rest before dinner," Eleanor announced. "Eliza has been through a shock, and the nurse did specify that she is not to be subjected to stress."

"I believe I will walk Miss Doolittle to her room," Freddy announced.

"I believe you will not. I hardly think that is appropriate," Henry remarked. "_I_ shall escort her, if you do not mind." Not waiting for an answer, Henry extended his hand to Eliza, and miraculously, she took it.

Once out of earshot, he spoke, "I do hope you only said that last bit as not to wound that stupid boy's pride."

"If I get to know him better, and find him pleasing, I will marry him."

The revelation left Henry with a feeling not unlike the time he had been shoved backwards by a schoolyard bully, winding him severely. "Folly,' he growled, 'the boy is a simpleton."

They soon reached the door to her bedroom. "Pardon me, sir, but there is nothing you can do about it," she remarked cheekily, before stepping inside and shutting the door in his face.

Henry found himself glaring at the closed door, as though it was purposefully causing affront to him. Nothing he could do, hmm?

A image came unbidden to Henry: Eliza in disheveled wedding finery, lying across a large white bed, clutching a bouquet of bruised roses, her beautiful curly hair unbound. He smiled at the image, before being profoundly disturbed by it. She wished for that boy to someday see her in the state, to bring her to that state.

"We shall see about that."


	11. Greeks Bearing Gifts

A Hole in the River

Chapter Eleven:

Greeks Bearing Gifts

Author's note: I have a beta! Special thanks to Jacqueline Viana, for helping work over the rough edges with me!

* * *

Eliza awoke one morning, with the scent of roses clinging to the morning air. Frowning, she sat up, and took note of the chambermaid, who was bearing quite an impressive arrangement of lavender and pink roses.

"Did Mrs. Higgins order those for the room?" Eliza asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Begging your pardon, Miss, but no. These are from Mr. Eynsford-Hill."

Eliza blushed deeply. "They are beautiful."

The chambermaid smiled slyly and nodded. "Very romantic, if you don't mind me saying so. Would you like them on your nightstand?"

Eliza shook her head. "No, I would never be able to sleep with that strong of a scent so near." She gestured towards an escritoire. I think that they would be lovely over there. That way I will have inspiration when I respond to the letter that is no doubt attached."

Dutifully, the maid produced the letter. The letters were alarmingly regular, for someone who slept in the same house, and was in her presence nearly every hour of every day, save the bedtime hours. Earnest letters filled with a sort of juvenile passion that flattered and irritated Eliza at the same time. It was strange to her, that a botched social appearance at Ascot had so thorougly entranced a complete stranger.

"What a sweet boy he is," Eliza remarked, folding up the letter and setting it on her nightstand. The truth was, Eliza did not care for roses. The scent evoked scenes from her past in Lisson Grove. Gaudily made up women that seemed to be an endless fixture in the home she shared with her father often employed liberal amounts of the same cheap, cloying rose scented perfume to cover the underlying stench of sweat, toil, and dust. It was not a pleasant scent for Eliza, who on the same hand, admired the beauty of the bloom.

Still, Eliza did not want to appear ungrateful. She managed to find a gown that matched the delicate shade of the pink roses, selected a pair of amethyst earrings that Pickering had purchased for her, along with a matching necklace. She wondered if Mr. Eynsford-Hill would notice the subtle tribute to his thoughtful gift. She sighed, and wondered what she was encouraging him for, as she had yet to develop the tender feelings that one was supposed to have for such an ardent suitor.

With a shrug, she headed down to breakfast, where the gentlemen and Mrs. Higgins awaited. Mrs. Eynsford-Hill apparently required an extensive amount of time for morning ablutions. After the men stood to greet her, as was custom, there seemed to a bit of a silent battle as to who would be the one to pull out Eliza's chair for her. It was puzzling to Eliza, as Professor Higgins had never been one for that sort of formality. Sometimes, she swore he begrudged even the mere act of standing when she, or any lady would enter a room... and here he was, silently cowing Mr. Eynsford-Hill so that he could assist her. Had the world gone completely mad?

Once the chivalry ordeal had been resolved, Eliza found herself seated between an oblivious Mr. Eynsford-Hill, and a glowering Professor Higgins.

"Pray, Professor, have I done something wrong?" Eliza inquired, after his scowling scrutiny became too much.

"Your gown matches the roses that were brought up to your room this morning. I saw that Welsh fool of a chambermaid carrying them, acting as though she were bringing up a bucket of diamonds."

Freddy's interest was piqued at the mention of the roses. He glanced up and down at Eliza's ensemble and then chuckled. "Oh, how awfully clever!"

"Rather encouraging, I think," Henry grumbled.

"Very sweet, my dear," Mrs. Higgins complimented.

"She doesn't even like roses," Henry retorted.

Freddy paled at this. "You do not?"

Eliza blushed, and was mercifully saved by the entrance of Mrs. Eynsford-Hill. "Good morning, all!" She beamed at Eliza. "How lovely you look today, my child. So fresh and pretty."

"Thank you."

"You are a trifle pale, however. Perhaps a stroll with good company would be just the thing." Eulalie looked over to her son, pointedly, and he coughed suddenly.

"Would you care to go for a walk about the grounds with me, Miss Doolittle?"

"I should be delighted."

"Seems a rather stressful endeavour to me," Henry remarked.

"I should be delighted, Mr. Eynsford-Hill." Eliza repeated, throwing Professor Higgins a quizzical look. His behaviour grew more strange by the day. It was as if Mr. Eynsford-Hill's regard for Eliza was a complete affront to him, almost as though it caused him great jealousy, and yet he seemed to be incapable of doing anything more drastic then shooting caustic remarks at the boy, and derailing any plan for the pair to be alone.

A small part of Eliza wasn't exactly sure that a declaration from Professor Higgins wouldn't be welcome. It was the same part of her that felt completely at ease in his company, and was ready to forgive him that row after the ball... if only he would endevour to apologize. An apology and a declaration of love, two things that would never come from Professor Higgins, and two things that almost always looked silly, when Eliza tried to imagine him attempting either.

"It is so refreshing to see two young people in the midst of courtship, I say!" Colonel Pickering declared to Mrs. Eynsford-Hill and Mrs. Higgins. Both ladies nodded emphatically, although the sound that Mrs. Higgins made could be described as a sad sigh.

Later, Eliza and Mr. Eynsford-Hill strolled, a respectable distance apart, through Mrs. Higgins' beautiful gardens.

"Miss Doolittle?"

"Yes, Mr. Eynsford-Hill?"

"I would like very much for you to call me Freddy."

"Oh? Very well. Yes, Freddy?"

He grinned. "No, that was what I wanted to say, Miss Doolittle."

"I suppose you may call me Eliza."

Freddy stopped and turned to her, eyes shining. "May I? Oh, my darling!" Suddenly, he grabbed her gloved hands, and was once again kissing them. Eliza pulled them away.

"Mr.-... Freddy, please!"

"Oh! Forgive me, Eliza, I forgot myself for a moment."

"Yes, you did."

They continued their stroll, even though neither paid any attention to the foliage around them. Eliza's whole body was tense, and her gaze was fixed stonily ahead at nothing in particular. Freddy could not tear his eyes from her face, and his own was burning with humiliation.

"You are not angry with me, Eliza?"

Eliza sighed. "You mustn't grab at me so, Freddy, it isn't decent." She resisted the urge to scream 'I'm a good girl, I am!', but only just.

"I just thought you would be open to certain liberties, especially given your permission to allow me to use your given name."

"Well, you were very wrong. I think I should like to go back now." Eliza disliked the assumption Freddy had confessed to making, and a part of her wondered if what he really meant was that he assumed she would be open to certain liberties due to her rough background -thoughts were surely just overly cynical.

Henry watched the pair return from their walk, from a window in his mother's study. Eliza did not look happy, and was quite a few paces ahead of a contrite Freddy. A clear sunrise in spring couldn't have been a more welcome sight to Henry, then the one he was witnessing at the moment.

To Henry's surprise, Eliza came straight to the study, as though knowing he would be there. "I should like a lesson, please," she requested tersely.

"Pardon?"

"Quiz me on titles, make me say the alphabet backwards with a mouth full of marbles, anything!"

"Rough sailing in paradise?" Eliza shot Henry a look of pure, murderous venom, and he promptly decided that it was unwise to tease her so.

"A lesson, if you please; my audience with the ambassador's wife draws near."

Henry smiled. In the drama surrounding the past week, he had nearly forgotten the real purpose of their stay. There had not been alot of time for lessons, in between Eliza's memory returning, and that fool Freddy's dogged courtship of her.

"Of course, Eliza."

The lesson lasted clear until tea was called, which astonished Henry. Usually the Eynsford-Hill boy remained at Eliza's side the whole of the day, a fact that frustrated Henry to no end. On their way to tea, Henry realized that he had neglected to say something that had been on the tip of his tongue many times since they had arrived in the country.

"Eliza, I've been thinking about the night of the ball."

Eliza narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Indeed?"

"Yes. I feel the aftermath may have been badly done on my part."

"Yes?"

Henry cleared his throat, and his next words were barely coherent.

"Pardon?"

"I said 'Well done'... at the ball, I mean. You were superb."

Eliza gasped, and stopped so that she could stare at him. Henry thought for a moment that she would faint again, and was dismayed to find that it was even worse; she began to cry.

"Please don't do that, Eliza." Henry's pleas went unnoticed, and she started sobbing in earnest. Cursing softly, he pulled Eliza into his arms, and held her, hoping that the gesture wouldn't completely offend her good girl sensibilities. It did not. He was bewildered to find himself with the urge to stroke her hair. Would it be smooth to the touch, as it appeared, or frizzy and coarse, as was the way with most curly haired women. That would not do, so he settled for awkwardly patting her on the back.

"I'm sorry... I j-just didn't expect-"

"And don't think that this isn't positively killing my pride to do so." He pulled away and handed her his handkerchief.

"Of course." She smiled at Henry through her tears, which he found oddly compelling.

Henry nodded. "Well, that's that, then." He offered Eliza his arm and she took it. Henry couldn't contain his smug grin, at having to force Freddy bear witness to Eliza arriving for afternoon tea on his arm.

The boy smiled weakly at Eliza, and no one noticed the teacup trembling almost imperceptibly in his hands, nor the burning in his eyes.

The next morning Eliza awoke to find no roses or letters from Freddy, but the maid did bring up a small arrangement of wildflowers, bound together with a white silk ribbon. Tied to one end up the ribbon, was a ring. Eliza eyes widened when she recognized it as the ring from Brighton.


	12. Compromise

A Hole in the River

Chapter Twelve:

Compromise

Author's Note: Thanks once again to Jacqueline Viana! I warn you, readers, I was listening to alot of Fleetwood Mac when I wrote this.

* * *

Freddy Eynsford-Hill loved his mother dearly. He had barely known his father, who had died quite unexpectedly when the boy was three years old, and the man had left the family with considerable debt. The whole ordeal of William Eynsford-Hill's passing had been very trying to Eulalie, who - once out of proper mourning- decided that she was also very put out. Freddy was therefore conditioned at an early age to resent the memory of his father, and to associate the word 'Father' with the phrase ' Your father, that useless bounder'. Fathers had no place in Freddy's young life at all... but his mother was the center of his very universe. Mother had all the answers, she knew what was right.

At the moment, what was 'right' for Mother was Freddy marrying the very rich, Eliza Doolittle, and as Freddy also naturally wanted this, it was Mother who would tell him how to obtain his lofty goal.

It was not proving to be easy. That Professor Higgins was constantly at her side, especially now that end of the month was fast approaching. It had been explained to Eulalie, that Henry had been Eliza's tutor for a number of years, and that Eliza - upon receiving her invitation to the Ambassador's country home - had panicked, and requested Professor Higgins's help to make sure that she would not make a blunder. Once one thought it over, it was not really a lie at all, merely a glossing over.

"Her family is obscure, but her prospects are remarkable." Eulalie remarked. The two of them were discussing the great matter in the private sitting room attached to Eulalie's suite of room the morning after Freddy's disastrous attempt at wooing in the gardens. "If your father were alive, you would never have to settle for 'new money' - but, as it is, he is not, and we are practically destitute. Her fine looks help, I suppose."

"I do not know what I am doing wrong."

"Perhaps she is a bit of a cold thing... however, she did honor your gift with that exquisite ensemble, and that is very encouraging."

"I would shoot myself for her, if it would please her."

Eulalie rolled her eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic, really! Have you considered writing her poetry?"

"I have another composition ready for her as we speak."

"Where is it?"

"In my breast pocket."

Eulalie extended a palm towards her son, and he dutifully produced the letter. After a few moments of reading the missive, Eulalie wrinkled her nose, and handed it back to him. "It's dreadful. I apologize, my love, but you've never been very talented at that sort of thing. I advise that you stop at once, and never let anyone else see this poem."

Freddy was wounded, but refused to show it. His hurt would distress his mother, greatly, and he endeavoured that she always be happy. Instead, he nodded and inquired what she suggested.

Eulalie pressed her lips into a thin line as she contemplated her son's options. She was no fool; it was quite apparent to her that Professor Higgins was purposefully sabatoging her son's courtship, and even more apparent that Eliza fostered very few romantic feelings for Freddy. As a mother, that fact pricked her pride, but it did not dampen her determination for the prize. Love comes softly, as they say. But how to ensnare Miss Doolittle immediately, without having to wait for the development of her regard?

"For shame, Eulalie Eynsford-Hill," she muttered to herself.

"What is it, Mother?"

Now she had him. "Oh, no, dear, it is too desperate."

"I am desperate."

Eulalie searched her son's face. Yes, he was quite desperate. He had never been good at keeping his emotions hidden. "It is risky... but if it works, it would ensure my health and happiness, and you would have Miss Doolittle."

"Please, do tell!"

Eulalie took a deep breath. Deep down, she was still a lady, and the idea did scandalize her... even if it was a very good one. "Compromise her."

"Mother!"

"Now, Freddy, it's not as bad as it sounds. Just be a touch indiscreet with your affection."

Freddy sputtered, struggling with a response.

"Corner her in the library, or something of the sort. Just make sure that someone is there to witness. There might be a bit of a to-do from the household, but hardly a pistols-at-dawn sort of situation. Miss Doolittle will have to risk gossip, or marry you."

"Absolutely not, Mother!"

Eulalie had a feeling her honorable son would react in such a way, and therefore, had a back-up plan.

"Oh, what's to become of our family!" She wailed.

Freddy was aghast. "Oh please, don't cry, Mother. I-I'll think of something... I will. I just don't think-" Freddy embraced his mother, who continued to sob. "Come now, I will succeed, I will. I've just overwhelmed her, that's all."

"I pray you do, son."

Once Eulalie made a show of composing herself, the pair headed downstairs for breakfast.

Freddy greet Eliza warmly, who responded in turn. Once settled in, Freddy began to take note of the odd silence between Professor Higgins and Eliza. It was as if the pair were actively trying to avoid eye contact with the other, and Eliza's cheeks seemed to be constantly tinged with a lovely shade of pink. If Freddy was not entirely convinced of the woman she was, he would have guessed she had employed rouge. Suddenly, Eliza raised her eyes to Professor Higgins and granted him a shy smile, and then man appeared to grow flustered at the look.

What on earth was going on? Freddy studied Eliza, searching for any outward clue to solve the mystery eluding him. His eyes settled on a pearl ring that he had not noticed Eliza wearing before. His heart pounded when he realized that it was on the third finger of her left hand. He stood up abruptly, unable to control the emotion coursing through him.

"I believe congratulations are in order." Freddy's voice cracked slightly, and had a bit of a hysterical edge to it.

"I beg your pardon?"

Freddy looked down pointedly at the ring, and Eliza's pink cheeks deepened to a blazing crimson. "Oh! I hadn't realized that I put it on that finger. No, Freddy, I haven't accepted any other offers. I had misplaced this ring ages ago, and Professor Higgins was so kind to locate it for me." She smiled at Professor Higgins. "It was very dear to me, and I was foolish to misplace it so casually."

"I was quite put out when she confessed. I had purchased the thing in Brighton for her. A small trinket, but not inexpensive."

Somehow, this made Freddy feel worse. Who was this old man to shower his Eliza with gifts, and what kind of woman was Eliza to accept them?

Freddy spent the remainder of breakfast, sullenly picking at his food. Dark thoughts continued to plague him, and he could barely muster the strength to calmly respond to Eliza's polite conversation. It seemed any time that he would glance over at the insufferable, ancient, Professor Higgins, the old goat would have his eyes on Eliza, although it seemed he was trying very hard not to be caught doing so. Nasty old man.

That afternoon, Freddy borrowed a motorcar, and headed into the village, intent on getting completely, and embarassingly drunk. He succeeded, of course. The patrons of the pub were friendly, and the barmaids were flirty and quite pretty, in a country sort of way. When night fell, Freddy seriously considered staying in one of the rooms above the pub, and sharing his bed with the buxom, and flirtatious Leah. On his way to send the driver home with the car, Freddy thought the better of it. His mother was probably beside herself with worry, and turning to a woman who was not his sublime Eliza seemed sacrilege.

Freddy stumbled in to find the house dark. It was nearly eleven, and Freddy had been drinking since three. It was a known fact that he was not accustomed to drinking in such quantities, but his spirits had been low and the company had been exceedingly good. He laboriously climbed the stairs, and then headed down the corridor to his room. However, the sight of Eliza's bedroom door distracted him and he took pause. This was the room where his beloved was slumbering. Freddy stared at the door, thinking on his mother's words from earlier.

"Not a pistols-at-dawn society at all, anymore," he drawled. On an impulse, he turned the door knob, and pushed. The door opened easily. Foolishly, he entered the room, drawn to the solitary figure that was sound asleep on the bed.


	13. A Man of Action

A Hole in the River

Chapter Thirteen:

A Man of Action

* * *

Henry could not even escape the girl in his dreams, for she featured in them with an alarming regularity. It seemed he was doomed to wake up every single night, flushed, disturbed, and oddly disappointed to discover he was the only person in his bed.

It was after such a dream, that Henry decided to forgo sleep altogether, and enjoy a bit of light reading, with a glass of port. Groggily, he settled into the wing chair, poured himself a glass, and opened his book. He was in the middle of an impressive yawn, when a timid, but frantic tapping on the door required his attention. Damned odd, as it was very late at night, and all the occupants of the house were undoubtedly asleep. Henry wondered for a moment if he was still asleep, as his previous dream had started out nearly the same.

"Professor Higgins, please let me in!"

A dream, then. It was Eliza's voice, albeit it did not quite sound like the tone she usually employed in his dreams. She sounded desperate, frightened, and on the verge of tears. Perhaps it is a different sort of dream, Henry thought to himself, as he crossed the room to open the door. Eliza was standing in her nightdress, and a wrapper, trembling from head to foot. Hardly the wanton seductress that had been visiting his dreams in the night... still, Eliza showing up at his door in the middle of the night in her nightdress was still too incredibly far-fetched for reality.

"Back to torment me?" Henry inquired with another yawn.

"For the love of god, let me in before someone sees!" Eliza pleaded.

Henry obeyed. It was just a dream, after all, and there would be no consequences to allowing Eliza into his room if the scenario was completely fiction. She was so very beautiful, with her hair unbound, in her prim-but-enchanting night clothes.

"There is desperation in your voice tonight, my dear." Henry whispered, stepping behind her, and wrapping his arms about her delicate frame. Eliza turned suddenly, and shoved him away with a surprising amount of strength. Henry gave a start, and was suddenly very much aware that he was, in fact, awake.

"My god, Eliza..." He struggled to find the words to express what a mistake he had made, but then something else caught his eye. "You've blood on your cheek!" He reached out a hand to touch the small smattering on her cheekbone.

"It's not mine. Why on earth did you- ... nevermind, I need your help." Eliza led Henry down the corridor and into her bedroom. Henry's jaw dropped when he spotted an unconscious Freddy Eynsford-Hill, sprawled across Eliza's bed. It appeared that someone had tried to drag him off the bed, for one leg dangled off the side of it. There was a trickle of blood coming from the boy's hairline, and it he were not snoring so loudly, Henry would have wondered if he was not dead.

"Watch your step, there's bound to be broken glass on the floor. I had to strike him with the vase that held your wildflowers." Eliza pointed sadly at the mess of wildflowers, water and glass that peppered the rug and some of the hardwood floor.

Henry did not respond. The anger that coursed through him had tensed his jaw, making it impossible for him to form words. Clutched in one of the boy's hands was a bit of lace. Henry looked to Eliza, scrutinizing her attire, until he found that the left cuff of her nightgown was torn. Eliza took in the black look in his eyes, the rigidity of his bearing, and his hands, which were formed into tight fists, and was suddenly afraid.

"Professor, we need to get him into his own room before someone suspects!" She pleaded, hoping that he would see things from her point-of-view. Her reputation was very much at stake, even though her virtue was still very much intact. No one would care, or believe - however - were they to discover Freddy Eynsford-Hill, unconscious and on her bed.

"I did not invite him to my room, I swear."

Henry blinked, as though leaving a trance, and looked down at Eliza, finding his voice at last, "Of course you didn't; how absurd. Silly girl."

"He is too heavy, otherwise I would have dragged him out myself."

"I see you tried, at the very least," Henry replied with no small amount of pride evident in his voice.

"Will you help me?"

A more romantic sort of man would have responded along the lines of their willingness to crawl through glass, filth, or Hell itself to assist Eliza. Henry merely nodded.

"I am going to need to rouse Pickering. I want you to go to my rooms, and wait for us there. Pour yourself a glass of port, and do so without wasting your breath to explain that no one has ever seen a drop of liquor on you, because tonight you need it."

"But, Professor-" Eliza's protests were cut off when Henry turned to her, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"You did very well, Eliza, but allow me to take it from here. Go, now."

Eliza obeyed, and walked to his room in a daze.

Henry managed to wake Pickering, and pulled him into Eliza's bedroom after making him swear to keep absolutely silent at the sight he was about to see.

"We've got to get the blackguard out of here," Pickering whispered, once he managed to compose himself.

"Quite right, Pick."

After a bit of stumbling, and maneuvering, the pair somehow managed to get the Hill boy into his room, and onto his bed. The boy stirred, and began to open his eyes.

"Go to my room and see to Eliza, I will join you in a moment." Henry instructed Pickering. His friend nodded hesistantly, but did as he was told. Henry was suddenly alone with Freddy Eynsford-Hill.

"Eliza..." the boy muttered, groggily.

"I am afraid I will have to ask you not to speak her name."

Freddy's eyes flew open to find Professor Higgins sitting on the edge of his bed. Had he imagined the ill-fated journey into Eliza's bedroom? His pounding head told him no.

"Professor Higgins?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"What have I done?" Freddy inquired, suddenly terrified. He recalled sitting on the edge of Eliza's bed, watching her sleep for a few moments, before leaning in to kiss her slumbering lips... it became hazy after that.

"You've done something that will not happen again. I suspect in the morning you will find yourself compelled to take your mother and head back to town. You will call off your suit with Miss Doolittle, citing a change of heart to your greedy mother. You shan't be seeing her again, and if by accident you happen upon her in the street, you will cross to the other side; if she happens to be attending the same function as you, you shall pretend she does not exist. She does not exist for you any longer, is that understood?"

"She must despise me so..."

"I will thank you to keep that assumption. It might make things easier for you."

"What shall I tell Mother about this?" Freddy asked, gesturing to the small wound on his forehead.

"How am I to know? Make up an incident, just leave Miss Doolittle's name out of it. Clean it up when you sober up a bit more, would you? It looks ghastly." Henry stood up, intent on returning to his room.

"Now that you have her, what on earth do you plan to do, sir?" Freddy inquired. The question caused Henry to pause for a moment, but he did not turn back to Freddy, and he did not reply.

Henry returned to his room to find Eliza sobbing in Pickering's arms, as the older man tried to sooth her with assurances that she had been brave, and that it was over now. "Her nerves are positively shot, Higgins," Pickering explained over Eliza's weeping. "There, there, my sweet girl."

Henry poured a glass of port, and gestured to Pickering to settle Eliza into the wing chair. Once she managed to sit down, Henry handed her the glass. Her hands were shaking too violently for her to hold on to the glass with any sort of control, so Henry quickly took it back, and knelt down so he could guide the glass to her lips. "You must calm yourself before you wake the whole house," Henry scolded, but without any real chastisement in his tone. It was enough to get Eliza to manage some semblence of composure.

"Thank you both," she managed, once she found her voice.

"They will both be gone by tomorrow afternoon, without so much as a breath of a scandal," Henry explained. It was not necessary to elaborate on who the 'They' were.

Eliza managed a weak smile at Henry. "I just feel so guilty. What could've driven that poor boy to do such a thing?"  
"Spirits, and his mother, I shouldn't wonder," was Henry's reply.

Eliza yawned, suddenly. "Excuse me, I am dreadfully sleepy; although, I have no idea why. A normal person shouldn't be able to find peace after such an incident."

Both gentlemen offered to show Eliza to her room. Once at her door, Eliza thanked them both again, profusely, but kept her eyes on Professor Higgins the whole time. Before falling asleep, Eliza wondered how on earth her professional relationship with Professor Higgins could proceed business as usual after the events of the night. She blushed deeply when she realized that in all actuality, it could not. Her last thought before sleep overtook her was how well his given name would sound on her lips.


	14. The Right Direction

A Hole in the River

Chapter Fourteen

The Right Direction

Author's Note: I am afraid we are to the end of our tale, save the epilogue. Special thanks to Jacqueline Viana, who has really helped me punch up some of the passages. Thank you, darling! Thank you to all my readers for their patience as I pulled myself out of what I like to call "Megablock 2010-11", and I hope you will join me once again for my untitled 'My Fair Lady' sequel set in the years of WWI.

* * *

Eliza rose early, the day after the incident. The sun had just begun to peak over the horizon, and she could still hear the servants, bustling about as stealthily as they could. Sleep, while coming to her easily, had not stayed with her that night. It seemed that every hour, on the hour, some nocturnal disturbance brought her to alertness; one moment it was the incident with Freddy, the next, her increasingly intimate acquaintance with Professor Higgins. Henry.

"Good morning... Henry," Eliza found it difficult to use his given name, even when practicing in front of her looking-glass. She sighed, and covered her blushing cheeks with her hands. "You are a fool, Eliza Doolittle; a silly girl, indeed." Eliza went to the task of readying herself for the morning, hoping against hope that Freddy Eynsford-Hill and his mother would be the last to join the breakfast table, or that they would just disappear into a puff of smoke.

Eliza stepped into the corridor, finding no sight of Freddy or his mother, and made her way downstairs. Upon passing the open door of the study, she nearly missed Professor Higgins, who was engaged in light reading. She paused, and turned back. He had not noticed her, surely he would not take offense if she did not greet him? No, that would not do.

"Good morning, Professor Higgins."

Henry gave a start, and dropped his book.

"Eliza... Good morning." He greeted, picking his book from the floor, avoiding making eye contact with her altogether.

"Are you unwell, sir?" Indeed, the look upon his face was downright bilious.

Henry cleared his throat, and finally met her gaze. "I am very well, indeed; why are you up so very early?"

"I could not sleep, sir." Eliza cast her gaze to the floor at the admission.

Henry scrutinized her appearance, with concern in his eyes. "You needn't have lost any sleep over the matter, Eliza; I've taken care of everything. That boy will never haunt your presence again."

"I confess that Freddy's indecency was not the only thing that weighed heavily on my mind."

The implication of Eliza's words struck Henry quite dumb for once, and there was no reply. Eliza suddenly wished that a chasm would develop beneath her feet to drag her down to the safe depths of Wherever-The-Professor-Was-Not.

"Oh, I see; very well, sir. I shall see you at breakfast." Eliza's humiliation was complete. As she made a hasty retreat, she heard Henry stand up and begin to follow her, but she did not look back.

"Eliza!" Surprisingly, two pairs of voices called her name. One of the voices belonged to Henry Higgins, the other was from the top of the staircase, and belonged to Freddy Eynsford-Hill.

"See here, boy, I believe I was very clear-"

"I will not leave without explaining myself!"

Eliza paused, but did not turn around to face the two men; she closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose, as though experiencing a headache.

"Do not take another step towards her!" Henry warned, as a flurry of footsteps drew closer. A hand touched her shoulder, and Eliza felt her reserve snap; without knowing who was touching her, Eliza turned and struck the man across the cheek with her open palm. Her handprint bloomed red across Freddy's otherwise pale cheek.

"I have had just about enough from the two of you!" Eliza shouted, heedless of how ladylike it all was. "You are too forward, sir, and your attack on me last night is just one reason among many that I could never accept your hand," she directed at Freddy. "You... You, sir-...  
Eliza faltered when addressing Henry. "You are the most frustrating of all!"

"I?"

Eliza glared, and walked around the two men in order to head towards the front door.

"I say, Eliza, that is not the way to the breakfast room."

"I ain't takin' me breakfast wiv t'likes of you two!"

The two men were left alone in the middle of the hall. Henry turned on Freddy. "There now, boy; was that enough to hasten your departure? Must sting, to be twice bested by a woman."

"I shall leave immediately; Mother has already been told, and she is packing her things. I only wanted to explain myself a bit better to her."

"You came to her in the night, and tried to take her by force. You were lucky that she did not cut your throat."

Freddy unconsciously covered the throat in question with his hand. "She is a remarkable woman."

"Yes, quite a tower of strength, a consort battleship; she always has been."

"I wonder what will become of her, once her stay with Ambassador's wife is at an end."

"What do you mean?"

Freddy shrugged. "I just wonder where she will stay."

"I am sure that is none of your business!"

Freddy nodded. "The way I conducted myself, I agree wholeheartedly; I worry, though. Eliza seems to need a place to belong, more than anyone I have even seen in my life." He sighed. "Well, some lucky chap will snap her up soon enough."

"You asked what I was going to do with her, now that I had her... last night, I mean." Freddy was on his way upstairs, when Henry's statement gave him pause.

"Did I? Odd, that. Well, you'd better do something, old man."

Eliza stormed up and down the gardens, allowing time for her anger to ebb and die. Stupid men, the whole lot of them! Well, Colonel Pickering was a dear, but he was the only exception.

"I can't wait until this whole business is over and be free of the whole lot," Eliza muttered under her breath. In a very unlady-like move, Eliza flopped down on the ground, beneath the shade of an obliging oak. The sun was beginning to warm the earth quite pleasantly, like a warm bath, and Eliza stretched out, becoming completely prone. She felt very much like a lazy cat, and resolved not to move from the spot for the rest of her life.

Professor Higgins. What was the matter with the man? At one moment he could be all tenderness, as he was when she caught him on the edge of waking, and then next all silence and reserve. His actions the night before... surely there was more to his outrage then the sight of a woman's virtue being threatened?

Eliza brushed the spot on her forehead that he had kissed. That gesture had brought a sort of calming reassurance on a night of chaos, but it had also filled her with more questions. Was it the kiss of a prospective lover, or a man reassuring a favorite pet? Whatever it was, the mere memory was enough to set her heart to flutter, and her blood to burn in a manner quite shameful.

Perhaps it was time to return to the house. Eliza was certain that refusing breakfast was a serious breach in etiquette, and she could not bear to have Mrs. Higgins be cross with her. Eliza opened her eyes, and gave a start when she realized that Professor Higgins was towering over her.

"I knew I would find you about, but I would have never guessed that a dryad had taken your place." He extended a hand when Eliza sat up, and assisted her to her feet.

"I did not think that I was away long enough to warrant a search party," Eliza replied as she brushed debris off her skirt.

"After the incident after the Embassy Ball, I prefer not to take any chances with your sudden disappearances."

"You were upset when I left that night?"

Henry scowled. She was baiting him, trying to make him confess to something he could not form the words to tell her.

"I... You silly thing, of course I was!"

"Oh?"

"You threw my slippers at me."

"Oh! Is that really all?"

"I daresay you would be damned upset to if someone hurled footwear at your head!"

"Impossible man! I suppose you felt nothing, when you found me half-drowned in a hospital cot?"

Henry gasped. "You infamous creature! Pray, did you throw yourself in the river just to elicit an emotional response from me; to wound me?"

"I already explained why I did what I did."

"So you did."

An long silence fell between the two.

"Freddy is leaving?"

"What? Oh, yes. I spoke with him briefly last night and made my case about the matter. He decided that it would be in his best interest not to linger."

Eliza nodded, and looked to the ground. "You were quite... familiar with me last night."

"Are you comparing my conduct with that Hill boy's?" Henry's voice had taken a dangerous edge.

Sensing a tempest, Eliza shook her head. "Of course not! I only mean that - I don't really know what I mean." Eliza took a deep breath. "Your regard for me - sometimes I feel as though it may be a bit... warmer than friendly."

Eliza continued her study of the earth beneath her feet, more and more resolved to never look upon Professor Higgins' face ever again. It seemed everytime she encountered him lately, she caused herself to be humiliated beyond all reason.

"Eliza, have the courage to look at me."

Eliza obeyed, and found his gaze to be direct and intense. "Forgive me, Professor Higgins, for seeing things that are not there; rest assured that as soon as this is all over, I will not bother you ever again."

"Like hell!"

Eliza's jaw-dropped. It was not the curse, so much as the contradiction. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Do you think that after the trouble I have gone through for your sake, that I am ever going to let you out of my sight again?"

"I... beg your pardon?"

"You sound like a broken record, girl, and a thick one at that."

"I suppose that I do, but forgive me, I do not understand. How on earth am I to stay within your sights forever after?"

"I should have thought it would be obvious, but allow me to illustrate." Henry took Eliza's left hand, and slid her pearl ring from the middle finger to the third. "Are you sufficiently educated on the matter, now?"

Eliza could only stare at the ring, resting unassumingly on its' new perch. "Professor-"

"Henry."

Eliza looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Henry."

"Well?"

"This is terribly unromantic."

"And you may expect more of the same, should you accept... do you accept, Eliza?"

Eliza answered by stepping foward, wrapping her arms about him, and resting her head against his chest.

"I suppose you will be expecting a kiss?"

"No, not at all. That sounds entirely too romantic for the likes of you."

"I suppose I could be willing to make an exception, to please you."

Eliza looked up, smiling. "Very well."

He bent down his head, and brushed his lips against her own, gently. Eliza let out a small gasp, which caused Henry to deepen the kiss. It was over far too soon, and Eliza mourned the loss. "I think that will do for now, Eliza. I daresay if someone sees us, we shall find ourselves being hurtled towards the altar." They parted from their embrace, and Henry offered Eliza his arm, which she gladly accepted. The pair headed back to the house, neither quite able to wipe the smiles from their faces.

"I don't think I should mind a short engagement," Eliza whispered cheekily, causing Henry to blush.

They entered the main hall, to find Freddy Eynsford-Hill and his mother on their way out. Freddy took note of the pair's proximity, and looked away. Eulalie Eynsford-Hill, however, was in high-dudgeon, and was determined not to go quietly.

"Wicked, the pair of you! I cannot believe that you were raised to think it right to string a poor boy along, while making eyes at another!"

"I assure you, Mrs. Eynsford-Hill, that I did not mean to string your son along-"

"Indeed? Well, you could've fooled me, you... you jade! My son is the sweetest, most gentle, most handsome boy in London, and you throw him over for this stodgy academic? Absurd."

"Need I remind you that you are insulting your hostesses' son in her own home?" Eliza inquired, in a warning tone.

"No, indeed. Though I am sure Eleanor knows all about what everyone thinks about her son, and now she'll have an infamous sl-'

"Mother, enough!" Freddy thundered. Everyone within hearing range gave a start at the usually gentle boy's outburst. "I cannot bear another moment of you insulting Miss Doolittle; she is the finest women I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and if I hear another word against her I shall leave our home in London and set up my own residence!"

"Freddy..." His mother pleaded, suddenly meek.

"As a matter of fact, Mother, I do believe that is not a bad idea."

"Oh, Freddy, why would you?"

Freddy turned, and noticed Eliza and Henry gaping in astonishment at the scene. "I will not have this conversation here mother." He touched the brim of his hat and nodded at the pair. "Good day, Miss Doolittle... Professor Higgins." With that, Freddy swiftly ushered his mother - who was growing quite hysterical - out of the Higgins residence.

As soon as they were gone, Eliza looked up at Henry. "I do not think you are a stodgy academic."

"Liar,' said Henry with a smile, 'Come, let us go and tell Mother and Pickering the good news."


	15. Epilogue

A Hole in the River

Epilogue

Author's Note: I now present the official end to my little tale. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, folks! Please check out "A Better Man" while you are in the MFL section, and please do not let the initial Freddy/Eliza pairing scare you off. Have I ever steered you wrong before? *Innocent eyes*

* * *

Eliza Doolittle became Eliza Higgins three months later, much to the astonishment of Colonel Pickering. Suspiciously unfazed by the news was Eleanor Higgins, who had merely kissed her son on the cheek, and embraced her future daughter-in-law.

The ceremony was a small, unfussy affair attended only by a select few, including Alfred Doolittle and his new wife, which was a surprise to Eliza, who expected him to give her wedding the same amount of attention that she had given his. From the disappointed look on her stepmother's face at the sight of the turnout, Eliza suspected that their attendance had everything to do with Glenna's newfound interest in social climbing; she was rumoured to have aspirations to be something of a mountaineer, in fact.

Henry adjusted to married life as easily as one would expect a bachelor nearing his fifth decade, which was very slowly, but not as excrutiatingly as it could've been, had Eliza not already lived with him for nearly a year beforehand. There was a bit of a scuffle about the furnishings in his bedroom being altered to allow for some femininity, which resulted in Eliza deciding that they should keep seperate rooms; this of course changed after they both became introduced to the pleasures of the marriage bed on their honeymoon, and although Eliza did end up redecorating her own bedroom on Wimpole street, she rarely slept in it.

Once the period of adjustment seemed to be at an end, the Higgins household was rocked with yet another complication. Two years into their marriage, Eliza gave birth to a son, whom they named after Colonel Pickering. It had not occured to Henry that such an event could possibly occur, nor that such a thing would be so very permanent. Eliza had rolled her eyes at Henry's naive and seemingly endless grumblings, and carried on, much as she usually did.

Freddy joined the war effort, and returned from the front a grave man. He also brought back a wife; a nurse who had labored endlessly to bring life back into his broken body and soul. To Eulalie Eynsford-Hill's delight, the young lady's father had a seat in the House of Lords, and was willing to turn a blind eye to his daughter's rather reckless choice of husband (and profession), and not disinherit her. The pair had many, many children and were quite happy, even though the ghost of The Great War always hung over them.

Over the years, Freddy, Eliza, and Henry reconciled over the events that occured at Eleanor's estate, mostly due to the fact that Little Hugh and Little Frederick were die-hard school chums, and their summers were spent between one household or the other.

All in all, Eliza was satisfied with her life. It was nothing that she had dreamed, but it was certainly better than she expected. Henry was not the demonstrative prince from the fairytales, but he cared deeply for Eliza, and there were, in fact, occasions where he did let it slip that he was very much in love with his wife, despite the general population doubting that his mouth could even form the words.

He bloody well could.


End file.
